The Price of Survival
by BadGirlgoesworse
Summary: Summer 1995. Two young people are left alone to drown in helpless anger and fear. How far would the Boy-Who-Lived go to continue living? And what would Hermione Granger sacrifice to fulfil her childhood dreams? AU, OOC, SS/HP, LM/HG, more inside.
1. Summer at Little Whining

**Disclaimer: **Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre.

**Summary:** Summer 1995. Two young people are left alone to drown in helpless anger and fear. How far would the Boy-Who-Lived go to continue living? And what would Hermione Granger sacrifice to fulfil her childhood dreams? **AU**,** OOC**, SS/HP, LM/HG, more inside.

**Author's Notes: **This story is rated for language, graphic violence and explicit sexual content. No Horcruxes, no Deathly Hallows, Harry's scar is just a curse scar. The story is AU, meaning it's only mildly compatible with canon.

SS/HP slash, LM/HG het, HP/HG deep friendship, mentions of other het and slash relationships along the way. Manipulative!Dumbledore, some calculating!Weasleys, unstable!Sirius.

* * *

**SUMMER AT LITTLE WHINING **

Harry felt numb. He was empty, unfeeling and strangely calm, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling of his dingy bedroom at 4 Privet Drive. It was doubly strange, seeing as only a couple of days ago he had been all but frothing at the mouth in righteous rage.

Thinking about it from his current, emotionally removed position he really did not believe that he had any logical reason to be angry at them. In their eyes he was a child, was he not? And as such he needed to be sheltered and protected, which included withholding certain information and making decisions on his behalf, without asking for his input.

They were the adults here, were they not? Teachers, good friends and close acquaintances of his parents, who had his best interests at heart. He was supposed to trust them to have the knowledge and experience needed to take the best action in any given situation. He was supposed to trust their judgement and obey their orders; to trust that they knew, if not best, then at least better than him.

It would be all good and well, if not for one little problem. He did not trust them. Not with his best interests at least, not anymore.

Honestly, he did not know why he had ever done so in the first place. Ten years of misery and deprivation, both physical and emotional, should have taught him better one would think. If the Dursleys had done him any good at all, that would be implanting many crucial life lessons and universal rules of human nature upon him from a very young age. And yet, when the strange letters started arriving and Hagrid had rescued him from that shack on the small island, he had opened his heart and mind to all but virtual strangers without second thought.

So eager he had been to please his benefactors and to fit into this new world, his world, the world of his parents, that he had forgotten the most important rules of them all. People were selfish and nothing was for free. They all wanted something from him. That was why they all were so eager to be close to him, to lend guidance, advice and a helping hand in his times of need.

That unfortunate lapse of memory was the reason he was in this deep shit now. A deep shit that he very possibly would not make out of alive, he was quite certain of that.

Could sweat broke out on his forehead and he had to take several deep breaths to dispel the remains of the overwhelming fear paralysing him for a moment. He could not allow himself to give in to it, panic would not help matters any.

He closed his eyes and continued breathing in and out in a controlled manner, until his stiffened muscles relaxed again. If he wanted to gain some resemblance of control over his life back, he would need to think about this whole mess coldly and rationally. He would need to find out who wanted what and why, as well as if it benefited him to play along or not. Then he would need to make plans of his own. He had managed to survive for so long, maybe his sheer dumb luck would hold for a bit longer.

A loud bang somewhere downstairs informed him that Dudley was back at home. That would mean that it was almost dinner. Should he go down and fetch his plate to eat it here, as he had been doing since he got back from school for the summer a week ago? He was not very hungry, but got up anyway sighing and stretching his cramped limbs leisurely. His body needed sustenance to grow and develop properly. Even with the enormous growth spurt he had undergone in the last six months, he was still of average height and body mass at best. No reason to jeopardise his chances of another one, hopefully sometime soon.

He opened his door and made his way down to the kitchen. Petunia was just sitting down to her own food, after having served Vernon and Dudley their share of what looked like roast with mashed potatoes and Brussel sprouts swimming in gravy. No plate had been prepared for him. It did not deter him though. He walked past the table to the counter where the various pots and pans had been laid out, took a plate out of the cupboard and served himself a decent helping. No one said a word when he sat the plate aside and began rummaging around for silverware and a glass. Petunia just watched on with a thin-lipped expression and Dudley's eyes were firmly glued to the telly flickering in the background. Vernon however was gripping his fork so hard, his knuckles turned white, face slowly reddening and swelling due to the high blood pressure.

He had behaved himself exceptionally well this past week, still remembering Sirius' short visit the second day of the summer holidays, but watching his despised nephew pour himself his wife's priced homemade lemonade was apparently too much. The usual tirade on his uselessness and ungratefulness in the face of their oh so gracious kindness soon followed, which Harry did not even bother listening to. One phrase caught his attention though, making him turn towards the angrily spluttering man with a furrowed brow.

"...never received even a penny for your care... spending my hard-earned money on your ungrateful hide..."

"Why didn't you apply for child-care allowance?"

Vernon stopped mid-rant and blinked stupidly, surprised to be interrupted at all. Realising that he probably had not heard the question properly Harry repeated himself.

"If my keep costs you so much, why have you never applied for the governmental child-care money? You are getting it for Dudley still, don't you? So, why not for me?"

The silence held on for several long minutes, interrupted only by the blaring of Dudley's favourite cartoon. All of them were staring at Harry, as if he had grown a second head, instead of asking a normal and very reasonable question.

Vernon finally found his voice. "The freaks just dumped you on our doorstep with a blanket and a letter, boy. We have no identification papers, a birth certificate or guardianship papers for you whatsoever. So, how do you imagine we apply for anything anywhere, hm? You tell me that!"

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down his anger, before facing the oaf again. "The normal way."

He sneered at their startled expressions. "The Ministry of Magic works just like any other government, as you, aunt Petunia, should actually know. You write to the Office of Public Records and request all you could possibly need. That's how it's done, isn't it?" he bellowed the last words at them making them jump to his secret satisfaction. "That's what normal people would do. Oh, but forgive me, the two of you are not normal, are you?"

He could see them opening their mouths in indignant protest and cut them short.

"No, you two chose to work a child in your care like a slave, starting age five. You FREAKS!" he hissed at them feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at their blanching faces. "Now, what would the neighbours say, hm?" he simpered at them, before taking a deep breath and addressing Vernon directly, his tone calm and serious.

"So, I'm a lazy, worthless freak you say? You fancy yourself a fine businessman, uncle Vernon, don't you? Then let's talk numbers. Maid service takes about 40 £ once a week. I've been cleaning the house from top to bottom every third day without fail since I turned five. There are 365 days in a year, which means 122 days of service and about 4 880 £ per annum, isn't it so?"

No answer came. Harry took a piece of block paper and a pencil Petunia kept in the kitchen to write grocery lists on, noting the sum on it. This was purely for their convenience, since he had run the numbers in his head countless times and had them memorised by now.

"Next are the gardening services. The minimum wage is about 7 £ per hour. I've been doing outside-work daily and independent from the season for two hours on average, which means 5 110 £ per annum." He wrote it down.

"Next, the cooking services. Usual wage is 12 £ per hour. I've been cooking daily for an hour on average, meaning 4 380 £ per annum."

He looked up again. "And of course let's not forget that I've been doing your son's homework almost all the time. Denying any such thing happening doesn't make it any less true, isn't it so, Dudders?"

No answer came.

"Well, a private tutor takes about 30 £ per hour, but let's get really cheap, since I've not been teaching him anything actually. So, let's say 15 £ per day? That would mean for about 195 school days 2 925 £ per annum."

He planted a cheerful grin on his face. "By the looks of it, I've been making about 17 300 £ a year since I was five. Such a lazy brat I am, could have been making twice as much rather easily, isn't it so, uncle Vernon?" he winked at the man. "Must have been all the times I've passed out from hunger and weakness hindering me. Yes, that must be it."

No one commented on that, though Petunia had the decency to look away.

He adopted a serious tone again. "Now, to the upkeep part you are always so fond of reminding me about.

Room. Price per square metre in such a nice house would be about 25 £ a month. That cupboard under the stairs is how long? 1,5 metres I'd guess?"

He looked up as if to confirm it with Vernon and had to do a double take. The man wore a most peculiar expression on his face. Harry doubted that he had seen anything like it on him before. Was it actually shame? Well, will wonders never cease!

He went on unconcerned. "That would make it 37,5 £ a month and 450 £ a year.

Clothes. Well, seeing as anything I have was handed down from Dudley, clothing me did not cost you anything.

Toiletries and other necessities. Hm, I'm rather low key in that respect, so I suppose it would be no more than 5 £ a month on average, which would make it about 60 £ a year.

School supplies. You have bought them as cheaply as possible, no more than 50 £ a year, though lunch you have indeed paid for, which takes 390 £ per annum, 440 £ in total.

Food."

Petunia got up and all but fled the room. They heard the bedroom door upstairs bang shut a couple of moments later. Harry was taken aback somewhat, not having expected her to react so strongly. He had stopped regarding his relatives as human a long time ago. For him they were the walrus, the baby whale and the mother of all banshees almost as long as he could remember.

He cleared his throat to get Vernon's attention back, deciding that he would finish this anyway. He would say what he had wanted to for so long this once and never bring it up again. He had to do it. He owed that to himself.

"Food. Well, it's difficult to estimate how much feeding me had to cost you. I did not get to eat every day for one and some days, what I got people would not feed to their dogs, much less to their children, just ask your sister."

The uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. Dudley must have switched the telly off some time ago. Harry was surprised that he had not noticed until now, or that Dudley would be interested in anything he had to say.

"Let's say I ate for 5 £ a day on average. That would make it 1 825 £ per annum. So, in total my keep would have cost you about 2 780 £ a year."

He wrote that down and slammed the piece of paper on the table in front of his by now ashen-faced uncle, leaning in real close.

"A freak I very well may be, but don't you dare to call me useless again!"

Smirking he straightened up and took himself together with his plate and glass to his room, without glancing back.

Closing his door behind him he let out a sigh of satisfaction. It felt really good to finally push the arseholes off their high horses, even though his dinner was now cold. He consoled himself with the thought that theirs was now cold too.

His good mood did not last nearly as long as he wished for though. After eating and bringing the dirty dishes down to the kitchen, he was back on his bed and staring at the ceiling, watching the last rays of the setting sun make way for the shadows of the night, letting his thoughts drift around uselessly. The solution to his dilemma was not written up there, that much was for sure. He gave himself a mental nudge to get back on track.

Voldemort and his merry band of followers were a very serious threat, but not an immediate one strangely enough. Neither were they responsible for his current situation, no matter how much Dumbledore wanted him to believe that.

Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore. It all began and ended with Dumbledore. The man was literally controlling every aspect of his life and had been doing so ever since his parents' deaths.

His parents. Harry balled his fists gripping the duvet under him forcefully. Stupid, naive little minions! Fought a bloody war for every underdog there was, but had not even had the decency to spare a thought towards their son and his future in case of their demise. Had they fancied themselves to be invincible or what?

He tried to fight down the angry tears without much success. Fact remained that neither of them had submitted a will at any point in their lives, leaving him at the mercy of the Ministry, since his godparents were unavailable at the time. At the mercy of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to be precise, who had been 'delegated' to secure the safety and wellbeing of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Curiously enough, Dumbledore had taken hold of him and placed him with his muggle relatives in the night between the first and the second of November, almost a whole week before he had been appointed Harry's temporary guardian by the Wizengamot. If that was not telling, then Harry really did not know what was. Therefore, he was exceedingly grateful that the entire Potter estate went into lockdown the moment his father had exhaled his last breath.

He wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. Praised be the wisdom of his ancestors, since his own sire did not seem to have had much of it. Throwing money around like it was going out of fashion, but never even bothering with a trust vault for his heir! The vault he had visited at age eleven had been opened for him by Grimaxe, the blood-bound estate manager of the Potter family, a month before said birthday. He had been raging for hours on end when he had received his estate ledger and an extensive note form the goblin two days before the end of last term, seeing as he would be fifteen soon.

It was a lucky coincidence too that Dumbledore had been absent from the school and thus not in complete control of the wards at the time, or he sincerely doubted he would have received that owl. It had been most informative indeed, too informative for the old bastard's tastes no doubt. But even with all of the man's crafty manipulations at work, there was really no excuse for Harry's own behaviour.

He should have asked himself questions from the very beginning. Questions like why it was Hagrid of all possible school representatives, who had been sent to deliver his Hogwarts letter and introduce him to the wizarding world? As far as he knew, it was Professor McGonagall's duty to visit the homes of the muggleborn and muggle raised children.

One could argue that everyone had assumed that his relatives had informed him of his heritage and Hagrid was allowed to go, because he had been eager to see him again. Well, that may be true for Hagrid, but he sincerely doubted it to be equally true for the dear old Headmaster.

Harry sighed looking over to Hedwig who was preening her feathers perched on her cage. Hagrid was really one of the very few people of his acquaintance, who he could trust to have no ulterior motives whatsoever. The man was just that kind. Too kind for his own good some would say. Unfortunately, he was so deep in Dumbledore's pocket that he doubted even a niffler could ever dig him out. In Hagrid's eyes Albus Dumbledore was a saint and could do no wrong.

He could not be trusted, doubly so because he was absolutely terrible at keeping secrets, Harry could not help grinning wistfully.

The other question he should have asked himself long ago would be why Mrs. Weasley had been going around a muggle train station hollering about secret platforms for everyone to hear? Was it not a blatant breach of the Statute of Secrecy? For that matter, Ron had not shown much interest in him then, but had been eager to join him in his compartment after he had heard Harry Potter was sitting there from the twins. And Ginny, well, he was not sure he even wanted to open that can of worms.

Harry sighed. One did not have to be a genius to see through that. The Weasleys were a Light family firmly inside Dumbledore's immediate sphere of influence. He must have asked Molly to take him under her wing. Arthur was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, certainly not the most ambitious one, and though the woman must have married him for love, Harry doubted that she was entirely happy with her family's station in life. To take in the Boy-Who-Lived, who also happened to be the Heir of House Potter, for summers and Christmases would bring enormous prestige to the Weasley name. To have him emotionally indebted to them and invested in friendship with her children would not hurt either in the long run. And of course, she did have a rather lovely daughter, so... who was to tell... one could always hope.

He snorted considering that Bill or Charlie would have far better chances to land in his pants than dear sweet Gin. But that was a secret he intended to keep for as long as possible. Homosexuals in the wizarding world were not discriminated against per se, but they were not looked at indifferently either, especially if they were firstborn and had the obligation to procreate to continue the family line.

The Weasleys were decent enough people he supposed, they could be trusted to a point. The point being Dumbledore and his directives of course. They had too much trust and respect for the man to go against any decisions he made for Harry, unless it entailed something dangerous or amoral. The only thing he could be absolutely sure of was that they would never involve themselves in anything that would cause him harm, not only because they were decent people, but also because of the Life Debt they owed him on Ginny's behalf.

His window was wide open to let in the balmy summer night breeze, allowing him to hear the sharp crack outside on the street loud and clear. His body and mind went into fighting mode almost instantly. He knew that sound all too well.

Grabbing his wand from under the pillow he rolled out of bed, landing easily on his feet and crept towards the window to take a careful peek outside, very glad that he had not bothered with lights tonight.

At the first glance there was nothing out of ordinary down there. If you don't count the constantly flickering street lamp directly across his relatives' meticulously trimmed lawn, that is. Street lamps did not flicker in this part of neighbourhood for long and that particular one had been flickering since he had arrived here, if he remembered correctly. Surely, someone would have called the municipal utilities by now?

Something made click in the back of his mind. Muggle technology did not work well with magic around, did it? Squinting hard he could suddenly see the tale-tell rippling a moving figure under Disillusionment Charm caused nearing the street post and coming to a halt under it, turning completely invisible. Distorted snippets of a hushed conversation reached his ears, carried up to him through the stillness of the night. A moment later a second, visibly taller, disillusioned figure started making its way where the first one had come from, quickly disappearing from view. A couple of moments more and a sharp crack from somewhere down the street followed. Down below his window the street lamp continued flickering.

Harry turned away from the window and slid down the wall next to it, landing on his bum, completely and utterly shocked by what he had just witnessed. Dumbledore had people watching him! There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that they were Dumbledore's. Most likely from that 'old crowd' Sirius had mentioned he was staying with the last time he had spoken to him. Fuck!

He shook his head, got up and resumed his position on the bed. He really did not know why he was that surprised. Dumbledore had shown him extraordinary amounts of personal attention in the past, so why not now, especially with what had happened less than two months ago in mind.

What did Dumbledore really want with him? Why would he go to such length to 'protect' him? What would warrant such profound investment on the man's side? Thinking about it for some time and not finding any adequate answers, he decided he would make them his first priority. Because one thing was for sure, out of the goodness of his heart it was not.

xxxoooxxx

He had always known he could trust Hermione, but after receiving post from her this morning, muggle post, he now knew for sure that she was his one and only true friend. And he now also knew for sure that his owl post was watched and carefully censored.

The fucking bastards! He had a great desire to walk out there and curse whomever was 'on duty' right now bloody and good.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He would find a way around it, but only if he kept his head on his shoulders. Throwing a temper tantrum would simply not do, no matter how satisfying it might be. He was almost fifteen. Almost fifteen. Less than three weeks left until his birthday. He had been patient all his life. Surely, he could hold it out until then? But man, it was hard!

Fifteen meant he would be the age of consent, it also meant that as the last of his House he could claim Lordship, which again meant partial emancipation by the Ministry. A small smirk tugged at his lips, he sincerely doubted that Dumbledore would have ever told him any of that. Partial emancipation meant full wand rights, the right to make one's own living arrangements and the best of it all, no adult supervision anymore.

He would be still watched and 'protected' afterwards he was quite certain, but no longer controlled to such an extent that he could not even fart without Dumbledore knowing and approving of first.

He sighed sorting through the paper clippings Hermione had sent him together with her letter. One-upping the old man had just taken a second row seat. Fudge had all but declared war on him. Stupid fucker! He had to be taught a lesson he would not forget. He may push the goody two-shoes Golden Boy around, but the Harry, who-would-do-well-in-Slytherin, had finally found his way back and he was not to be messed with. The rest of the wizarding world would learn that the hard way before too long.

xxxoooxxx

Lunch came and went. Sitting down and thinking about the best course of action for a couple of hours he had finally come up with a brilliant plan, if he may say so himself.

He took out the fine stationery he had got himself last summer, just because it had caught his eye, now very glad that he had followed that whim, and began writing in his most neat hand, which unfortunately was not saying much.

_To Lady Amelia Bones,_

_Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

_The Ministry of Magic_

_Dear Madam,_

_I am writing to you to respectfully bring to your attention several cases of covered up murder, miscarriage of justice and severe abuse of office by none other than the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge._

_As the only witness to the murder of Cedric Diggory I have fully expected to, if not be taken into custody, then at least be questioned by the officers of the Law Enforcement right after my release from the hospital wing at Hogwarts following the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Imagine my bewilderment when no such thing happened. The only ones who had inquired after what had happened were the Headmaster Dumbledore and Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, none of them doing so in official capacity._

_The murder was presented to the press as an unfortunate accident caused by a rampant running escaped Death Eater. But even if that were indeed the case, what evidence does the Minister have indicating it? Was the location of the 'accident' secured and gone through by the authorities? Was Cedric Diggory's body examined by the Ministry coroner or even a Healer at St. Mungo's? Were all the possible witnesses questioned? Was the 'escaped Death Eater' taken into custody and interrogated? No, nothing of the above was done!_

_Instead, all evidence was destroyed, the 'culprit' Kissed by direct order of the Minister, which he had no business issuing without a Wizengamot verdict and thus has made himself guilty of murder in cold blood, and all possible witnesses were discredited even before they had a chance to give a proper statement!_

_Madam, I respectfully demand justice to be done on behalf of the entire Diggory family! I demand to be questioned by the authorities, as absurd as that may sound, to bring all the heinous crimes committed that night to light!_

_Enclosed you will find the permission to use Pensive Memories and Veritaserum signed by my legal guardian._

_In the hope of seeing you soon,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter, Heir of House Potter _

Cackling evilly to himself he wrote out a formal permission for Petunia to sign and took it to her immediately. She signed without even asking what he needed it for.

Now, he had to get the letter to the Ministry without a certain old coot's interference. Nothing easier than that, he grinned stepping into the guest room, the windows of which were conveniently showing into the backyard.

"Dobby!"

A popping sound and he had a very excited elf wound around his legs.

"Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is so happy you is calling! What can Dobby do for Harry Potter, sir?"

"Hallo Dobby, could you do me a favour and deliver this letter to Madam Amelia Bones at the Ministry of Magic? I'm paying you a Sickle."

"Of course, of course! But a Sickle is too much, Harry Potter, sir!" The house-elf was jumping up and down like a wound up toy rabbit.

"No, it's not, Dobby. It's a special delivery and must be handed to her in person. She may not have time for you immediately and you will have to wait."

After a bit of more convincing the letter was on its way. Harry entered his bedroom whistling to himself and dug around his trunk for some decent robes, expecting visitors soon.

He was not disappointed. Barely an hour later he was led into a full to the brim conference room adjoining Madam Bones' office by his Auror escort, wearing an appropriately solemn face and a gleeful grin inside. They would not know what hit them!

Many hundred miles away Dedalus Diggle, out of breath and sans top hat, was pounding on the stone gargoyle blocking the way to the Headmaster's office.

"Albus, let me in! The Aurors showed up and took him! Do you hear me?"

xxxoooxxx

The Ministry was a toppled anthill! People were running around like headless chicken. Arrest warrants were flying through the air, literally, one after another, issued by the hastily assembled minimum required composition of the High Court. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was up in arms, literally, the entire level sealed off, every Auror and DMLE officer on duty. With Minister Fudge taken out of office, Amelia Bones was next in line to take over as the acting Minister and she was purging her house with an iron fist. The holding cells and interrogation chambers were filling up nicely, but the good thing about having magic was of course that more room could always be made with a flick of a wand.

Harry Potter was sitting in a corner of Minister Bones' office and munching on his tea and biscuits, happily watching the chaos around him like one would a good TV show. He was THE witness number one and had been put under protection order by the Minister herself. To his knowledge the Professors McGonagall and Snape, Madam Pomfrey and the Diggory parents among others had been brought in as additional witnesses to support the Pensive Memories he had shown the Aurors, and not only concerning the case of Cedric Diggory, but also the case of Sirius Black. Giving them undisputable evidence of Voldemort's return when he was at it had not been planned at all of course.

Dumbledore had come by to give his own statements, but unlike the others, who had been put into the witness protection quarters, he did not stay being a very busy man and needed elsewhere, and all that. No one insisted to hold him back.

The man had smiled at him with his customary twinkle, but Harry could tell that it was not quite genuine. Had his little stunt interfered with some carefully laid out plans of his? Oops! Harry all but giggled into his teacup.

xxxoooxxx

Two weeks later Harry was back in his bedroom at the Dursleys (Dumbledore must have convinced Minister Bones that he would be safer there) and the wizarding world far more prepared to face the threat of Voldemort than it would have been otherwise. Well, prepared would be a strong word, but they were at least aware that there was a threat to begin with. Fudge would have never allowed even that much, until it literally leaped them all in the face. However, Fudge was now nothing more than a disgraceful stain of history.

He grinned and crossed out the man's name on his mental list of enemies. Stupid bastard had only himself to blame. No one had forced that money into his hand after all.

He wondered briefly just how furious Voldemort was right now. Snape must be doubly glad that he had refused Dumbledore's request to resume his position as a spy after the Triwizard Tournament. But even if it might not have been Harry's most clever move to give those memories to the Head of the DMLE and make so many enemies all at once, he consoled himself with the thought that they were his enemies either way and it was better to have them out in the open, instead of hidden in the shadows, ready to stab him in the back at the first best opportunity.

Most of the followers Voldemort had called to him that night had never been caught the first time around and were currently awaiting their trials, undoubtedly to join their comrades in Azkaban soon, except Avery, Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy, who had been set free after the initial questioning. Seeing as they had been cleared of all charges back then, they could not be charged for anything dating prior to November 1981 now and had apparently made more or less of an effort to stay out of trouble since.

Malfoy's release had surprised him the most. Clearly, the man was so bloody slippery that nothing stuck to him, Veritaserum or not, yet Harry had to wonder. Madam Bones would have hardly let him go, if he had been found guilty of anything beyond bribing corrupt politicians, which would be worth but a fine or two. Had all the rumours he had heard about him being the evil incarnate, Vodemort's right hand man and what not, been nothing more than exaggerated rumblings fuelled by envy and spite? Guilty much or not, Malfoy was a snob, a bigot and a first rate arsehole, both father and son. People like that were not exactly in the business of making friends, though it did not make them evil by default.

Thinking about it, he had heard mostly the same rumours about Sirius too. Apparently, they were worth just about the breath they took to tell them, if not less. No that it would make him like any of the Malfoys anytime soon, but he could at least admit to himself that he had probably misjudged them on that one front.

He had received several letters from Ron indicating that he and his family, among other people, were staying at some secret organisation's headquarters. Hermione told him in her last owl that she had been invited to stay there for the rest of the summer, but had declined on the grounds of wanting to spend more time with her own family. Through muggle post she explained that she had made plans to ensure her parents' safety in the upcoming war and was now too busy implementing them to indulge Ron's desire for company. Ouch! Poor Ron. And he had been trying so hard too.

She had brewed a strong Suggestion Potion during the last month of school, put it into her parents' morning tea the first day back and suggested they pack up shop and move to Australia as soon as possible. Absolutely brilliant! But well, that's Hermione for you.

Muggles have no resistance against that kind of potions whatsoever and thus it was exactly what they were doing now. Hermione told him that they had been lucky with being able to sell their surgery to an old friend of her father's straight away, but all the papers, migration permit, employment permit and such, would take months to obtain, even though it was easier with them being quite wealthy. In the meantime they would purchase a house and find a possible location for a new surgery, pack their things and sell everything they would not want or be able to take with them.

Hermione had also suggested that she would be just fine continuing to go to school here in Britain, since a boarding school was a boarding school and it would make no difference, if it were in the country they resided in or outside of it, and Hogwarts was one of the best as it was. The Doctors Granger had no reason to object to that, even if they could.

Honestly, Harry was beginning to have his doubts that Hogwarts was one of the best around after visiting it for four years now, and so was Hermione. But that was a discussion for another day.

Dumbledore had informed him that he would be able to leave his relatives on his birthday and spend the rest of the summer with the Weasleys, aka wherever that 'old crowd' had opened up shop, as he understood. Sirius' trial was scheduled at the end of August. His solicitor had managed to arrange for house arrest conditions until then, thus Harry did not know if he would be able to see him there or not. Either way, he was planning to join the good people a bit later than they wanted him to. He had urgent business at Gringotts that just could not wait. Sorry. He winced imagining the volume of Mrs. Weasley's voice when she would get hold of him at last.

The real difficulty would be to leave the house without his guard noticing shortly after midnight on the 31th, and there was only one solution to it.

"Dobby!"

"Harry Potter, sir! You is calling again! Dobby is happy to serve you!"

"Yes, about that. You are currently employed at Hogwarts, right?"

The house-elf nodded vigorously, his bat-like ears flapping.

"Would you like to work for me instead? I'll pay the same, plus a bonus of five Sickles for working on Sundays and all official holidays."

Dobby's lips trembled with suppressed emotion for just a moment, before he threw himself at him, wrapping his arms and legs around his own.

"Oh, Master Harry Potter, sir!" the creature bawled happily, "So noble, so generous, Dobby is very honoured to serve you!"

There was a flash of white light surrounding them for a moment and disappearing almost instantly. The surge of power made him stumble and nearly fall with Dobby still clinging to his legs. He caught himself on the wall behind him blinking in surprise.

"What was that?"

Dobby let him go grinning from ear to ear. "Binding employment contract, Master Harry Potter, sir. Wes, the house-elves, cannot do much magic alone. Wes must be bound to wizard masters and through them wes have connection to Mother Earth and can take power from Her to do our magic."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Huh, I've never heard anything like that before. And call me Harry."

Dobby hung his head in sadness. "Wizards used to know these things, Master Harry, sir, but they have forgotten."

"That's rather stupid of them, isn't it?" He had every intention to look into what else the little elf might know. "What's the difference between what you just did and the usual bond house-elves and wizards have?"

"The conditions, Master Harry, sir!" Dobby was all but dancing around him now. "The usual bond is servitude until death or when clothes are given. It is anchored to blood, house-elf blood and wizard blood together. My bond is anchored to your magic alone, Mater Harry, sir, and is broken with death or if you do not pay, or do me harm on purpose."

He grinned when a sudden idea entered his mind. "Tell me, Dobby, is Winky still drinking herself into stupor?"

Dobby stopped his antics and hung his head again. "Yes, Master Harry, sir. Winky is bound to Hogwarts, but it is not good enough for her. Winky is not happy."

"Would you go and ask her, if she wants to be bound to me and my bloodline?"

The elf's eyes grew wide at that and his legs were under siege again. "Oh, Master Harry, sir! How good and selfless you are! Such a great and generous wizard!"

Harry was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, hearing that and had to clear his throat as a distraction.

"Well, ah, you'd better go and tell her the good news now, would you."

Dobby disappeared immediately and Harry let out a sigh of relief. There was only so much praise, deserved or not, he could take. Guilty conscience aside, the opportunity was just too good to not take advantage of, even if Hermione was going to have his head.

A couple of minutes later there was a resounding pop and no less than nine new elves of various age and gender were standing before him, wearing very hopeful expressions on their faces. Dobby was grinning and bouncing on the spot, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Master Harry, sir, there is more elves wanting to be bound, sir."

Harry pushed down the manic laughter bubbling in his chest.

"Oh, well, I don't mind."

xxxoooxxx

Time was money and because of that simple truth goblins did not have such a thing as business hours. They did not care for the age of their clients either. If you had gold in your hand, then you were old enough to make a transaction.

Dobby had delivered him to the white marble stairs leading up to the bank entrance at one o'clock on the 31th of July. House-elves may be able to bypass most wizard wards, but goblin wards were a different matter entirely.

Harry walked past the row of counters, not minding the pair of vampires haggling over some precious stones, and asked the young goblin standing at the end to lead him to Grimaxe's office. He was rather nervous all things considered. If everything went well tonight, he would leave the building an adult. Well, an adult in all questions concerning wand usage and heritage at least. He would still have to wait until the age of seventeen to have his shot of Firewhisky at a bar. There were also certain places that had an age line at the entrance and for good reason, though Harry doubted he would have the need to visit any of those anytime soon.

The goblin elder was expecting him, sneering menacingly.

"Mr. Potter, sit down there, the signet ring will be brought in shortly."

He handed the younger goblin some sort of medallion giving instructions in rapid Gobbledegook. The youngster scurried away in short order. Apparently, goblins had not much use for polite manners. Harry found that he did not mind. The young goblin brought in a small stone box of what looked like obsidian, placed it on the desk and returned the medallion before leaving them alone. Grimaxe took a simple silver dagger out of a drawer and put it next to the box.

"Place a drop of blood in that circle."

He made a small cut on his finger and let a drop fall on top of the lid. The stone cracked and melted away revealing a rather gaudy golden monstrosity that was the Potter Lordship ring. The square cut ruby set into it was etched with the family crest, a Griffin holding a rather familiar sword in its claw. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

He put it on the ring finger of his right hand before he lost his nerve and opened his mouth in a silent scream when ancient and powerful magic took hold of him, sweeping through him from head to toe. Just as soon as it began, it was already over and he fell out of his chair onto the floor breathing heavily.

Grimaxe sneered down his nose peering at him over the edge of his desk.

"Well, you have survived," he sounded almost disappointed. "The magic of the Potter family has recognised and accepted you as the Head of House. Congratulations."

"Why, thank you, Grimaxe," he could not help snapping back, picking himself up from the floor and sitting down again. Honestly, he could have warned him at least. Apparently, goblins had not much use for decency either.

The old goblin gave him a rather sharp grin.

In the following hours they went through his estate ledger, the investments part mostly, and decided which business stocks were no longer yielding enough profit and should be sold and what new investments looked promising enough to put money in. What he definitely wanted to do was to go into business with the Weasley twins and had the goblin draft a contract naming him a silent partner with 20 % of their venue in exchange for the starting money they would need.

He had found out that being Lord Potter made him the Heir of Gryffindor indeed, even though it meant nothing more than a hereditary seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and ownership over the Gryffindor family heirlooms, namely the Sword and the Sorting Hat. Anything else was part of the Potter estate already or had been lost over the centuries. He tried to be not too disappointed. Really, what did he expect, a quarter of Hogwarts?

With the promise to stay in contact they bid each other goodbye.

xxxoooxxx

When he finally left the bank it was almost seven in the morning. He had made a detour to a counter on his way out and had ordered himself a blood bound money bag linked directly to one of his vaults. For a 'small' fee of course. No need to refill it manually anymore.

The first thing he did was to take out his wand and shrink the ledger in his hand to fit comfortably in his pocket. He took a deep breath feeling like the king of the world, only to nearly choke on it when he saw an owl heading towards him with a screech. Impossible! There should be no Trace on him anymore!

Oh. Just his Hogwarts letter. His knees nearly gave away in relief.

Getting a grip on himself he took it off the owl's leg, thinking that it was rather neat to have received it today. He could do all of his school shopping, since he was in these parts already. He should probably hurry though. There was no telling how fast Dumbledore's men would be able to find him after all, but first things first.

He stepped into a nearby lane and summoned all of his new elves to assign them to his properties in Britain. The house in Godric's Hollow was a national museum now, though the Ministry had never compensated him for it. Something he had given Grimaxe instructions to correct immediately. He had plenty of others of course, albeit he shuddered to think what state they were in after so many years of neglect. As far as he knew, his grandparents had owned only a pair of house-elves that had died protecting their masters during an attack on Potter manor. His grandparents had survived, but had not lived long enough afterwards to acquire new ones. The rest of the Potter properties had been standing empty for decades even before that. His elves should be very, very happy for many years to come.

It was still rather early and most shopkeepers were just beginning to open their shutters and lay out their wares in the windows. He was also rather hungry after the long, productive night, thus had decided to make himself comfortable in the quaint café across the street with tea and sandwiches. He would have preferred a good English fry-up, but to go to the Leaky Cauldron meant asking to be found.

Half an hour later he stepped into Twilfit & Tattings to spend a fortune on an entire wardrobe. Needless to say, the assistants were all but kissing his feet in the end, considering the commission they would get that day. He went through his Hogwarts supplies list without encountering anyone and had even stepped into the optician's shop that had opened only recently. He had been looking to replace his glasses with something less ugly, but was pleasantly surprised to find magical contact lenses. The man's wife turned out to be a muggleborn.

It was only when he was leaving Scribbulus that they finally got him. They being Professor Lupin and a young woman with flashy, spiked, bubblegum-pink hair, who had introduced herself as 'just Tonks, first names should be forbidden'. Lupin, or Remus as he insisted, made an excellent effort to hold conversation as if they were not running around the country in search of him, but had just happened to meet him doing a bit of shopping themselves. Harry even managed to drag them into the Quality Quidditch Supplies and purchase new pads and a bottle of broom polish before the rest of the crew showed up.

They were eight more people, all very eager to introduce themselves. Harry carefully catalogued their names and faces, smiling pleasantly and shaking hands with everyone. Moody however was in no mood for pleasantries.

"Potter, I hope you had a nice enough birthday outing today. It'll be some time until you get to see the sun again."

Harry raised his eyebrow at him smirking. "Is that so? We shall see."

Turning his back on him with the full knowledge that it would irritate him, Harry addressed the others. "Has someone of you, wannabe guards, bothered to bring my trunk?"

And just like that all the gushing and happy smiles went out of the window.

"Wannabe guards?" the Jones woman spluttered.

"Oh, please," he sneered at them. "You have done the job so shitty, I could literally smell you some days."

Jaws dropped, eyes popped out, Lupin was staring at him as if he had never seen him before, Moody on the other hand barked a laugh and patted him on the shoulder, like an uncle would a favourite nephew.

"Someone should have told Dung to take a bath before his turn," Tonks snickered good-naturedly. "Shouldn't we get going? And yes, we do have your trunk with us," she winked at him shoving her neighbours in to motion.

The group spilled out into the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron ready to apparate away. Moody took him side-along to wherever they were going. It looked like somewhere still in London. A piece of paper with an address on it was shoved under his nose.

Ah, a Fidelius secured property! Very prudent. Number 12 Grimmauld Place appeared before his eyes a moment later.

The house seemed to be indisputably Dark, representing everything that term entailed to a T. Harry had to seriously wonder why on earth these people, this Order of the Phoenix, have chosen it their headquarters? It was clear as day, at least to him, that this house and everything in it would fight them tooth and claw at every turn. Sabotage was all but bound to be an expected occurrence. Were they insane?

"Harry! There you are, pup," Sirius swept him into a bone crushing embrace.

Well, that explained everything.


	2. Aberrations of Perception

**Disclaimer: **Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre.

* * *

**ABERRATIONS OF PERCEPTION**

Harry was led into a spacious kitchen chamber in the basement, apparently, one of the few rooms in this house made fit for human use, to get his first earful of the day by none other than Mrs. Weasley of course. By the time the woman let go of him Dumbledore and a number of other people had arrived. Among them McGonagall, Snape, the 'Dung' man (recognisable by the smell), Bill, Charlie and six others he did not know the names of, which was remedied immediately though. It began to look like a formal meeting of sorts when the doors were secured against eavesdropping after everyone took seat. Dumbledore was presiding over his Order, sitting at the head of the long table.

And so the interrogation began. To his surprise, the old man did not bother with scolding him or offering excuses for having him secretly watched, or some such patronising nonsense, and in doing so acknowledged him as someone to be taken seriously. Harry had to give him points for that.

"Harry, my boy, could you explain to me why the blood wards on your relatives' house have fallen last night?"

Ah, well, that explained some things. "I have claimed the Potter Lordship."

A murmur went through the ranks and for a moment all eyes were drawn to his right hand lying on the table nonchalantly. His tone had been neutral, not accusing, yet was taken as such nonetheless, judged by the look on the Headmaster's face.

"I see. I must ask you not to leave this house without a security guard to accompany you despite that. For obvious reasons of course. We all have only your best interests at heart."

Harry leaned back in his chair not taking his eyes of him all the time. "I will agree to that, but only on the condition that you stop intercepting my mail."

"What?!" Sirius all but jumped to his feet. "What do you mean by that?" No one answered him. Most of the members were exchanging shocked or confused looks, some shifted uncomfortably in their seats though. Harry had his attention locked on the old man still, drawing his godfather's focus there too. "Albus, what does he mean by that?" he all but growled in the back of his throat.

Dumbledore ignored him looking at Harry dispassionately. "I will abide by it."

"Very well," Harry folded his hands in front of him. "Should I find reason to believe that you went back on your word, I will bring charges against you and your..." he swept the table with an evaluative gaze "...group of vigilantes."

"Of course," Dumbledore inclined his head in recognition. "I must ask you to leave now though. We have important matters to discuss. I believe you will find the Weasley children in the drawing room on the second floor."

"Wait a moment! You are not including him into the Order?" Sirius was up in arms again.

"He is too young, Sirius, as you should well know!" Mrs. Weasley's fast reaction made it clear that it was an old argument.

Most of the present gave some sign of agreement. Harry could only snort derisively pushing his chair back to stand up. Mrs. Weasley meant well he knew, he doubted though that his age played any part in the Headmaster's reasoning. The old man saw him as a tool not as an ally. That was why he was sending him away. He might want to reconsider his stance one of these days, Harry smirked to himself.

"My trunk, please," he addressed the round. Some of them were eyeing him, as if he were an exotic specimen, the rest just stared. Clearly, he turned out to be not what they had expected. Remus procured his trunk and Hedwig's cage in miniature form. Speaking of which.

"Will my owl be able to find me here?"

"Yes, the wards are set to allow owls through," Dumbledore informed him smiling slightly. Harry just nodded blankly and turned to leave.

"I will let you all know when it's time for lunch," Mrs. Weasley called after him.

xxxoooxxx

He had barely reached the first floor when he was accosted by the group of red-heads lying in wait.

"Harry, mate, where have you been? Mum said the wards on your house have fallen. We thought you were kidnapped by Death Eaters or something."

Ron was just as predictable as ever. When had he started to find it irritating?

"Death Eaters," he snorted. "What Death Eaters? I took care of quite a few of them two weeks ago. Voldemort would have a better use for those he still has left, I'm sure."

Ron was giving him a strange look. Like he did not know what to make of him anymore. Well, Harry had every intention to take a leaf out of Hermione's book and ignore his opinions. He had simply too much on his plate already to spare the energy needed to put on an act and indulge his juvenile behaviour. Ron could either take it or leave it. His choice.

"I needed to go to Gringotts to claim my Lordship after turning fifteen, but Dumbledore had me watched, so I took off in the middle of the night when the guards were changing shifts, walked a couple of blocks to the local train station and took a train to London."

The story was not quite true, but he wanted to keep a couple of trumps in his sleeve, just in case.

"I've got my Hogwarts letter in the morning and decided to do my school shopping when I was at it. The guards caught up with me in Diagon Alley and brought me here. That's all."

Ron stared wide-eyed, the twins exchanged unreadable looks and Ginny furrowed her brows in confusion before voicing it.

"Why would you have to give them a slip? Why not ask Dumbledore to get someone to take you there in the first place?"

Harry snorted. "As if he would have allowed it! Dumbledore has never even mentioned to me that I could do that. A partial emancipation by the Ministry means that I don't need to ask his or anyone else's permission for every single thing anymore. He loves to have his pawns where he wants them too much to allow that."

He gave Ron a hard stare. "By the way, why have _you_ never mentioned to me that I could claim my Lordship at fifteen? I would think that as my _best friend_," he sneered at that part, "you would have been kind enough to tell me something so important." He did not even try to hide his anger. "Apparently not. Apparently, you must have thought that I don't need any more wealth and glory than I already have, isn't it so?"

Ron was spluttering incoherently and shaking his head in denial, but Harry ignored him turning towards the twins and Ginny instead.

"So, how has your summer been so far?"

Ginny just stared at him in shock. The twins though exchanged another unreadable look, before turning on their usual cheer and leading him to the drawing room on the second floor, they had been occupying prior to his arrival. It was in a just as deplorable condition as the rest of the house, but at least clean and safe. They arranged themselves on the threadbare lounges and armchairs chatting about their clean-up adventures and what little they knew about the Order and their course of action against Voldemort. Ginny came around soon enough and Ron was doing a marvellous job at pretending that nothing had transpired between them. Harry decided to let him.

"So, Harrykins," twin one leaned into him grinning conspiratorially.

"Since you are a wand-wielder now too," twin two leaned in from the other side wearing a matching grin.

"Say, if we need a hand at some point..."

"to bring a bit of liveliness into this dull existence..."

"surely you'll be a good friend..."

"and help us out?"

Harry wrapped his arms around their both shoulders assuming a solemn face. "But of course, gentlemen. What are friends for?"

"Ah, that's our man," they patted his stomach from both sides.

He put his arms down reaching into his pocket to retrieve the contract Grimaxe had prepared for him.

"Speaking of business arrangements, I have a proposition for you. You are still aiming for your own shop?"

The twins nodded in unison grinning happily.

"I want to go into business with you as a silent partner. 20 % of your venue in exchange for any starting money you could possibly need."

He handed the contract to an astounded George, or at least he thought it was George.

"Take a look at it and tell me what you think. The terms can be adjusted to your liking of course."

Harry grinned feeling smug to have rendered them speechless.

"Harry, mate, we don't know what to say."

"We are interested of course," twin two added hastily.

"Take your time and tell me when you have decided. There's no hurry."

xxxoooxxx

The meeting downstairs lasted over two hours. They sure must have had a lot of things to discuss. In the meanwhile Fred and George had introduced him to a number of their potential products. The Extendable Ears were particularly worthwhile in his opinion. He could not wait and see what else their genius brains would spit forth in the near future. That shop of theirs was a dead sure investment.

When Mrs. Weasley finally called them down they were so hungry that they all but ran to the kitchen, bumping into Order members on their way out. Only those who either did not have a home, like Remus and Mundungus Fletcher, or whose homes were compromised, like the Weasleys and to his surprise Snape, were staying at the headquarters permanently. Everyone else was all too eager to leave and Harry could not blame them.

Today's lunch had Tonks and Professor McGonagall as additions. Mrs. Weasley's shepherd's pie was as mouth watering as always and Harry dug in with gusto moaning in appreciation. He opened his eyes just in time to catch Snape's lingering gaze before it was averted. Huh, did he have something on his face? Harry took an inconspicuous look at his image mirrored in his polished silver goblet and found nothing out of ordinary. Strange. He shrugged it off and continued to eat.

"I still can't believe Dumbledore would not let Harry join the Order," Sirius complained to Remus two seats over. "After all that's happened, if anyone has the right to be included, it's him."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to start her usual rant no doubt, but Harry beat her to it.

"You are talking as if I wanted to join in the first place."

Everyone's eyes turned towards him.

"You don't want to join?" Sirius was visibly shocked. And he was not the only one.

"No," Harry rolled his eyes at them. Honestly, where did these people get their misconceptions from? "Why would I? Your precious Order will be just as useless as it was the last time. Why on earth would I want to waste my time on it?"

That sent everyone but McGonagall and Snape into fits of vehement protest. Harry did not bother listening to them, continuing to eat his pie instead.

When everyone calmed down Remus took over the defence. "Now, Harry, I know it may have looked like that on the outside, but the Order has done a lot of good during the last war. We have saved a lot of people and undermined many of the Dark Order's plans. We were one of the few opposing groups Voldemort considered a serious threat. And we will continue to fight for the good of our word until our last breath."

Harry snorted and put his fork down. "The good you have done was nothing more than a drop in a bucked considering the overall picture. And in the end you were just running around, putting out fires."

He had put his time at the Ministry to a good use and gone through the archives to gain a better understanding of the state of affairs prior and during Vordemort's last bid for Wizarding Britain. Let's say, he was not impressed with what he had found.

"You were losing the war and fast. The Death Eaters were picking you off one by one like sitting ducks. Voldemort was mere months away from victory when he showed up at our house and blew himself up in a freak accident, the catalyst of which may or may not have been little ol' me. Merlin only knows what has really happened that night."

He looked from one face to another seeing the shadows of memory creep back into their eyes.

"You were useless!" he bellowed bringing them back to the present with a jump. "And you will be useless again." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice waiting to see if someone would still protest. Remus looked like he was going to say something again, so he decided to change tactics.

"You don't agree I can tell," he smiled impishly. "Then let's compare notes. What have you accomplished these past two months? On the war front I mean. Nothing? Just my point, you see!"

"That's not true!" Sirius shouted apparently quite agitated.

"Then tell me what you have accomplished," Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What? Nothing comes to mind?"

He smirked at the continuing silence.

"Well, let me tell you what _I_ have accomplished then," he put his hand on the table counting on his fingers. "I've got five out of nine remaining Inner Circle Death Eaters put away in Azkaban for life. The other four are now under strict surveillance and thus neutralised. With them many Second and Third Circle Death Eaters, and unmarked supporters went down as well. I've got Fudge taken out of office and replaced by a strong and capable leader. I've got the Ministry and many other public offices purged of their network of informants. I've got the public at large aware of Voldemort's return. And last but not least, I've got you a trial," he winked at Sirius. "And do you know how long it took me?"

He did not even bother hiding his smug smirk. "Two weeks."

The smirk disappeared to be replaced with a hard expression. "However, Dumbledore could have done all that and more just as fine. So, why the bloody hell had he not?"

"He had other things to do!" Sirius snapped at last. "There are far more important things going on, which you know nothing of, so shut it, damn you! How dare you! You have no idea!"

"Really? Like what?"

Sirius opened his mouth to spill it all, but was stopped by the hissing of the others.

"Sirius!" Remus grabbed his elbow giving him a hard took. "That's quite enough!"

Damn! And it was so close too. Harry sighed and returned his attention to his lunch tuning out the adults' squabbling. But at least he now knew for sure that there was something they were hiding. Something concerning him. Something of great importance. And he would need to find out what it was, no matter the cost, if he wanted to survive.

xxxoooxxx

The room he had to share with Ron was on the second floor, as were all the guest rooms occupied by the youngsters. The adults preferred the bedrooms on the third floor, the family floor, mainly because they were ensuite. Sirius had assigned his mother's former bedroom to serve as Buckbeak's stable, no doubt to enact a bit of revenge.

The room was a decent size and the beds four-posters even larger than those they had at Hogwarts. When he went inside Hedwig was already there greeting him with a hoot from the top of the wardrobe. He enlarged her cage and put it on the table under the window refilling her food and water dishes again. His trunk and the new purchases went on the bed to be sorted out properly.

Ron had opted to stay out of his way at the moment. It was clear that he did not agree with the bashing Harry had dished out earlier. Probably, because it was tarnishing his image of the glorious Order of the Phoenix that he no doubt had dreamt of joining, ever since he had learned of its existence. Harry almost snorted in derision, but then remembered that if not for the wake-up call of his recent brush-up with death, he would be not much better right now. Thus he should not judge too harshly.

He locked the door and cast a silencing charm to ensure some privacy and was about to call Dobby to help him go through his things when he noticed an empty portrait frame on the opposite wall. He stepped closer to investigate and cursed loudly once he saw the nameplate under it. Now, just how high would the odds be to happen to have a portrait of a former Hogwarts Headmaster in the room you were put in? Harry was very tempted to blast the thing off the wall, but decided to settle on a less violent solution. He covered the frame with one of his old school robes and cast a sticking charm on it, smirking at the muffled grumbling and cursing of the hidden occupant, which were cut off as soon as he applied a long term privacy ward. He would need to remember to reapply it once a week though.

Privacy secured he called Dobby to his side.

"Dobby, how strong is house-elf magic exactly? You can apparate inside wizard wards I know, but are elf spells in general stronger than ours?"

Dobby shook his head giggling. "No, no, no, Master Harry, sir, wes is not apparating, wes is not casting spells at all. Wes take magic and will it to do things wes want it to do. Hard tasks takes more magic than easy ones, and sometimes wes cannot gather enough magic to do a task all at once, then wes have to do it bit by bit, and sometimes Mother Earth refuses to help us, even if wes could do the task."

Well, that was most fascinating! By the sound of it, their abilities were almost limitless. He assumed Mother Earth was Nature itself and thus only the things that went against Nature were out of their reach.

"Like bringing something that's dead back to life?"

"Oh yes, yes," the elf nodded vigorously, ears flapping, "and making someone love someone else, or creating life, or..."

"Alright, I get it."

By Merlin, wizards were really imbeciles to look down their noses at the elven race. Hermione will be happy to learn that her S.P.E.W. had just gained another member. But back to the task at hand.

"I need you to take a look at all my things and tell me if there are tracing charms or harmful magics, or some such, placed on them."

Dobby snipped his fingers and Harry's glasses lifted off his face and floated in front of him surrounded by a bluish glow.

"There is a strong tracing spell on your glasses, Master Harry, sir, but everything else is clean," the elf sounded indignant on his behalf. Harry on the other hand, was torn between laughing hysterically and screaming in rage.

Of course there would be one on his glasses and of course everything else would be clean! He always wore his glasses wherever and whenever he went. There was no need for placing it on anything else. He plucked them out of the air and shoved them into the drawer of his bedside table. Squinting a bit, he pulled out his newly acquired contact lenses and put them in, using the mirror inside his wardrobe to help. Other than the obvious, the advantage of these would be of course that he had to take them out only once a month to clean and replace them once a year. Looking himself over, he found that he loved them already.

That would do for now, but he would need to learn detection and disabling spells as soon as possible. That much was for sure.

"Do you know how I could ward my trunk against intrusion, so that not even Dumbledore would be able to get in?"

"Blood wards is the best for that, Master Harry, sir."

Harry nodded deciding to take a good look at the library on the first floor. Surely, there would be a book or two on the topic in there?

"And do you know if there is a way to detect poisons and other harmful potions in my food and drink, other than a detection spell I mean?"

"Your Lordship ring will protect you, Master Harry, sir. It will heat up in warning."

"Really?" Harry looked at it astounded. "That's dead useful!"

Dobby shifted on the spot looking guilty all of a sudden.

"Master Harry, sir, I is giving you potions."

Harry frowned not quite sure if he understood him correctly. "What do you mean? What potions?"

Dobby looked up wringing his hands nervously. "Master, Potions Master, has been paying Dobby to give you potions. Almost eight months now. They are for your health, he is saying, and Dobby knows he is not lying, Dobby has seen them doing you good, Master Harry, sir."

His insides ran cold and his thoughts rampant in an instant. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down. He would take a look at those potions before assuming the worst, but if Dumbledore was dosing him with mind controlling substances, so help him Merlin!

"It's alright, Dobby, I'm not angry at you," he answered the progressively despairing elf. "Can you show them to me, please?"

Dobby disappeared and reappeared a minute later holding three vials in his hands. He showed him a murky brown and an orange coloured one. "These is to go first, Master, Potions Master said, and then this," he held up a deep red coloured one. "Once every ten days, he said, until he says to stop. He has not said to stop yet, Master Harry, sir."

Harry took the brown and the orange one finding them actually rather familiar. Taking a sniff at each he had them identified beyond doubt. Nutritive Potion and Vitamin Supplement. Huh? Nothing too alarming so far.

The red one was a different matter. He took a sniff and froze wide eyed. Dumbledore had no knowledge about this whatsoever, that much he could now tell with absolute certainty. That coopery smell could belong only to a blood potion and most blood potions were Dark. They were either illegal or strongly regulated by the Ministry. Dumbledore may be ready to go quite far, but any use of the Dark Arts he was vehemently against, even in cases of emergency.

Snape was acting on his own, but what could this potion be possibly for? And he was given it for almost eight months Dobby said? He had a vague recollection to have seen a picture of a potion that particular colour somewhere. If only he could remember where!

Struck by a sudden epiphany he put a drop of it on his tongue tasting the essence of woodruff through the blood, Re'em blood he now knew. The Growth Potion. Sweet Morgana, Snape was giving him the Growth Potion!

He stared at the vial in his hand in absolute astonishment. Then laughed out loud half bitter half amused. And here he had been so proud of his growth spurt! He snorted. He should have known better. Ten years of malnourishment could never be corrected, not the natural way at least and not the legal way magically, or Madam Pomfrey would have mentioned it by the end of third year at the latest. He had entered fourth year almost a head shorter than most of the girls.

He turned towards the anxiously waiting Dobby and smiled reassuringly. "Continue administering the potions to me, until Snape tells you to stop," he handed the vials back to him, "but the next time someone asks you to give me potions for my own good, ask for my approval first."

"Of course, Master Harry, sir!" The elf was most happy to not have done anything wrong.

"That would be all, Dobby, thank you," he dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Left alone he removed the locking and silencing charms from the door to avoid suspicion, if someone wanted to come in, then stared at his things piled on the bed for a long moment, head reeling from the recent revelation.

Snape, the hateful, vicious git of a man, went behind Dumbledore's back, broke a good dozen Ministry laws, spent a lot of money, brewed a difficult and time consuming potion and went to quite a length to ensure he would get it without anyone knowing. Why?

Harry went over to his bed and started sorting through his trunk on automatic. Books and other school supplies went to the left, old school robes and Dudley's hand-me-downs to the floor, broom, Quidditch supplies and other possessions to the right.

Maybe Snape was a good and selfless man at heart, but was hiding it behind a hard facade. Maybe he had taken a look at his midget stature and felt pity for the poor, abused orphan and wanted to do something nice for him, but behind his back, because it would ruin his reputation as the evil bat of the dungeons otherwise.

Harry snorted derisively. Yeah, sure.

He cast a cleaning charm on the inside on his empty trunk, before starting to pack it again. Books and school supplies, old and new, went to the left, his new wardrobe in the middle, and the rest to the right.

Maybe he wanted Harry to owe him a favour, something to be collected later. He had a lot of wealth and influence, political and otherwise, maybe Snape had a need for it in one capacity or another.

But why doing it in secret then? The Slytherin thing would have been to call him into his office, put the offer and the conditions on the table and secure an agreement. As the things stood now, it was completely up to Harry if he would feel honour bound to repay him or not. That did not make any sense and was therefore unlikely. There must be some other reason. But what else could it be?

Nothing altruistic and nothing related to business, that left only something personal. Sirius had told him once that Snape owed his father a Life Debt. Was he seeking to repay it that way? Then he remembered the broom incident in his first year and the werewolf incident in his third. Snape had already repaid that one, so it could not be it.

Suddenly, he remembered the look he had caught Snape giving him at lunch and nearly dropped the bottle of broom polish he was holding to the floor. No! Surely not? But there was really no other explanation. Snape was giving him the Growth Potion, so he could feel less of a paedophile when imagining him naked!

For a moment he could not decide if he should be amused or disgusted. Snape was truly a nasty, ugly bastard, both on the inside and the outside, completely mercenary and utterly self-serving too. However, he must have some sort of twisted moral code he adhered to or he would not have done what he had.

Harry emptied all his pockets and undressed himself completely, changing into the newly purchased underwear, summer tunic and pants, socks and nice dragonhide boots. The pile of ghastly muggle clothes and old robes on the floor was levitated into the empty fireplace and set on fire. That part of his life was hereby over and done with. He was a Lord as of today and it was high time he started looking the part, even though it would be a long time until he learned to act the part too.

Snapping the lid of his trunk shut he levitated it down to the foot of the bed, before deciding to give it a test lie. The bedding and sheets seemed to be either new or transfigured, and definitely very comfortable. He stared up at the canopy above him pondering how he could possibly get hold of the information the Order was hiding from him, and before he had to go back to Hogwarts too, since it would be nearly impossible from there.

Remus, McGonagall and the Weasley parents he could forget straight away. Bill and Charlie were closer to his own age and liked him well enough, but he doubted they would go against Dumbledore's direct orders, not to mention their parents'. That would compromise the mission or some such rot, and they were not stupid like that.

Sirius would have been his best shot in this, but was too pissed off with him at the moment to give him even a hint. He would need some time to cool off, time that Harry did not have. He could manipulate him into blurting something out he supposed, if he could get him away from the others long enough. But they surely would watch out for that now, Remus in particular, knowing that Sirius was a liability. Damn!

Or he could seduce Snape and blackmail him into telling him everything.

He laughed it off as a silly idea at first, but thinking about it further his laughter soon died down. He could, couldn't he? Either that or trying his luck with the rest of the Order members visiting on occasion, who he knew almost nothing about and would not know how to approach properly in the first place.

But could he really? Thinking about it and actually doing it were two different things. Snape was a beast of a man, he would not be gentle, and to be mounted and ripped apart was certainly not how he would want his first time to be. His first time, he snorted. What was he, a bloody girl? Romantic notions had to be put aside where survival was at stake.

Was that how the prostitutes on the streets must feel, every time they readied themselves for work? Yes, possibly. He shook his head to get back on track.

He could endure it, he was quite sure. He could endure the Cruciatus Curse, a bit of rough sex would not do him in. How long would it take for Snape to come anyway? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? And he could use magic now to heal himself afterwards. He had a jar of Quidditch Salve too.

Fuck! He fisted his hair with both hands squeezing his eyes shut. What the fuck was he thinking! What the shit was going through his head!

Feeling sick to the depth of his soul he leaned over the side of his bed and retched hard, his entire body convulsing, nearly making him choke on his own vomit. Coughing and spitting his guts out until nothing was left he was finally able to draw air into his lungs. Falling back on the bed and gulping it greedily he fumbled for his wand and vanished the mess he had made, adding a mouth cleaning and a breath refreshing charm as an afterthought.

He lay there unmoving for a while, staring up at nothing. Calm, empty, removed from disgust, removed from fear, from pain during it and from shame after it was done, that was how he would do it. And do it he will, there was no other way. He was alone, always alone, he had no one to stand up for him, no one to protect him. He could run, he could hide, but never for long. They would find him sooner or later, the Light Lord or the Dark Lord. He had to wonder who was going to be worse in the end.

xxxoooxxx

The birthday party had surprised him. He really did not know why, it was his birthday after all. Maybe because of the argument at lunch or everything he had on his mind before and since then. It did not matter though. It was great!

A lot of people had invited themselves. Man, he must be popular! But the more the merrier and the huge pile of presents was definitely a plus. Fred and George were in their element. So many inebriated testers around, who would waste such an opportunity? Harry had laughed like he had not for quite a long time. Even the drunk older girl, he could not remember who's sister she was, that had ambushed him on the way back from the loo could not diminish his mood in the least. Especially, when Snape had materialised from the shadows and all but hexed her three ways to hell, confirming Harry's theory about him quite well.

Snape had actually stayed put to the very end, long past midnight, until the very last of the guests had Flooed out. Probably, to make sure that no one stayed behind to try and warm Harry's bed again. Honestly, thinking back at how he had shadowed his heels almost the entire last year it was quite obvious. No one had noticed, because no one would have ever considered it a possibility, and no one ever will. Snape was asexual as far as they were concerned, and he was stalking Harry because he had been ordered to keep an eye on him, and that was all.

Yeah, sure, and what was that? He tilted the bottle of the lemon scented lubricant he had found under his pillow, to be able to read the label in the light of the candle on his bedside table. Ron was already snoring away with no care in the world. It was a premium product, infused with Venus' Breath to take away any possible discomfort during penetration. And would have cost a pretty coin, were it really bought at Slug & Jiggers, as the stamp indicated. If Harry had not known better, he would have thought it a prank present from Sirius. He did know better though, since he had not seen that particular product at that apothecary this morning, and yes, he had taken a look, just out of curiosity of course.

There was only one other party it could have come from. Snape must have brewed it himself and given it to him as a birthday gift, hiding it carefully behind something else. Harry snorted in disbelief at the man's audacity, giving him a bottle of lubricant, but chasing away any potential lovers. Oh, well, he grinned mischievously despite his rapidly rising nervousness, that would make his enterprise far less painful than it could be otherwise, so who was he to complain.

He cast a silencing spell around his bed and called for Dobby. He had written a letter to himself that he gave the elf to keep for him until tomorrow, just in case if Snape decided to obliviate him instead of answering his questions. One could never be too careful. Closing his eyes for a moment to strengthen his resolution he blew out his candle and ordered Dobby to apparate him to Snape's room, without making any noise.

Once there he dismissed the elf and took a look around. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard, he could feel the pressure in his ears. Snape was in the bathroom, indicated by the muffled noises of the shower inside.

The room was sparsely furnished and dominated by the large mahogany four-poster draped in deep blue to match the carpeting and the overall colour scheme. Harry was surprised to find any colour other than black or green, but supposed Snape had just kept what he had found here, not caring one way or another. Taking a deep breath to get a grip on the trembling of his frame he decided to wait for Snape naked in the bed, to present himself to maximum effect.

The minutes stretched themselves to impossible lengths. Lying between fine linen sheets Harry stared at the canopy, breathing in and out, calming down, relaxing. Everything would be alright. The lubricant would make sure it did not hurt too much. Maybe he would be able to enjoy it at least somewhat, maybe even have an orgasm. He closed his eyes for a moment feeling strangely aroused. Did he want an orgasm? Yes, he did, he wanted to enjoy his first sex, no matter who he had it with or for what reason.

Finally, the shower noises ceased. Harry's heartbeat went up a notch in anticipation, but not to an extent that it could not be controlled. The door in the far left corner of the room opened and Snape came out wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. Not noticing the intruder in the bed he opened his wardrobe, apparently in search of some nightwear. Harry could only stare with bated breath at the strong planes of his exposed back. Snape may have an ugly visage, but his body was not bad, not bad at all. Long, elegant limbs muscled just so as to not appear bulky, broad, but not too broad, shoulders, narrow hips and a very appealing backside. The skin was an unhealthy pale colour of someone who barely saw the sun, marred noticeably by a collection of old scars.

Harry blushed and felt himself harden for real. Who would have thought Snape was hiding that under his severe, high-collared robes?

Snape pulled out a cream-coloured nightshirt and turned around closing the wardrobe door behind him. His chest was just as appealing as his back Harry found swallowing through his suddenly dry throat. A moment later Snape finally saw him and dropped the shirt in his hand out of sheer shock, staring at him wide eyed. Harry wished he had a camera with him to be able to capture the look on his face. The blackmail potential of that one alone would have been great indeed.

The shock was replaced by the usual impassive mask soon enough, though it was clear that the man was thrown out of balance quite severely.

"Potter, what in the name of Merlin are you doing here? How did you get in without triggering the wards in the first place?"

He spared a quick glance towards the door, before summoning his wand into his hand and checking his security measures for breaching. Harry was very impressed by his display of wandless magic and rather embarrassed that the demonstration of power aroused him noticeably.

"I have my ways and means," he smirked at the Potions Master's disgruntled expression when he found nothing wrong with his wards. "And as to my presence in your bed, that I believe is self-explanatory."

Snape was not impressed. "Very funny, Potter! Has your mutt of a godfather put you up to this? As if I would believe even for a moment that you are naked in my bed!"

He pulled the covers hard revealing exactly that. For a long moment there was silence again. Snape's face acquired a smidgen of colour around his cheeks, while his glittering black eyes roamed the exposed body before him unabashedly. And Harry knew then with an instinctive certainty that he would get what he came here for tonight.

Snape let go of the covers he was still holding and slowly, very slowly, as if not to scare away his prize, unwrapped the towel and let it gather around his feet. Harry's breathing hitched ever so slightly despite his best efforts to suppress it. The man was glorious down there, even half-hard. Long, yet not too thick, Harry imagined that he would be able to handle him just fine. He looked up into the man's face. The black eyes meeting his were now pools of molten lust. Deep. Impenetrable. He found them unbelievably attractive, considering that the rest of his face was decidedly not.

Taking his staying put as an invitation to proceed, Snape climbed onto the bed and covered his body with his own, propping himself up slightly with his knees and elbows as to not to crush him. Harry's breathing hitched again. He was rather surprised just how eager he was to get to it, when he had been all but trembling in his slippers mere ten minutes ago.

Not taking his eyes of the man's face the entire time, he raised his hand showing Snape the bottle. He saw a spark of recognition in the bottomless depths, even though just for a second, and smirked secure in the knowledge that his assumption was spot on. Snape's body shifted. The bottle was taken out of his hand and put aside, then his chin was tilted and he received his first ever kiss.

Not even a minute into the action and things were going not the way he had expected them to. He had expected to be grabbed roughly, his mouth plundered and his lips bitten bloody, instead Snape's lips were moving against his in a practiced, yet gentle, manner. He closed his eyes trying to respond in kind as best as he could. Snape's breath was warm on his face and neck, making him shiver with its intimate caress. The oversized nose was pressing slightly into his cheek, though he found that enjoyable too. The sly tongue running along his bottom lip startled him for a moment. He recognised however what it wanted and opened his mouth to let it in.

Snape moaned as he deepened the kiss pressing himself firmer into his body. Harry had honestly expected such a generally unpleasant man to taste just as unpleasantly. To his surprise, neither his mouth nor his breath, were in any way foul. On the contrary, he could swear he tasted faint traces of vanilla. He found he liked it very much.

When they finally broke apart for much needed air Harry was rather surprised to have found his arms wrapped around Snape's back. He could not remember to have put them there. His musings were soon interrupted by the hands and lips exploring his neck, collarbone and chest, increasing the state of his arousal to the point of moaning and squirming most embarrassingly. He bucked into the hand cupping his balls and aching member, throwing his head back and crying out with abandon. Oh, god, the callused fingers against his sensitive flesh was just too much! He spread his legs to give them better access, bending them when Snape shifted to settle himself in-between, pressing their cocks against each other.

Oh, fuck, it felt so good! So good! His brain was all but mush at this point. His hands were fisted in Snape's hair barely sparing a thought towards its fine, silky texture. Their mouths were meeting forcefully, again and again, stealing each other's breath.

When Snape sat up suddenly and fumbled for his wand he could not help mewing in protest, reaching out for him mindlessly. The slightly tickling sensation of a specialised cleaning spell brought him back to reality and he tensed up a bit watching the heavily breathing man uncap the bottle and pour some lubricant into his hand.

The finger entered him slowly, was twisted around a couple of times and pulled out, only to return accompanied by another. Harry relaxed and leaned back giving in to the oddly pleasant sensation. His half-closed eyes flew open when his hips jerked forwards on their own accord, after Snape's fingers became acquainted with his prostate. The man chuckled raggedly at his reaction and Harry flushed even more than he already was, giving him a half-hearted glare. That aside, it had felt damn good! He could not wait to feel something more substantial brushing against it at every forward thrust.

It staggered him for a moment just how carful and patient Snape was with him, taking his time to prepare him properly, despite the burning lust clearly visible in his eyes and the slight trembling of his frame. It made him realise just how self-righteous and prejudiced his assumption had been that the man would all but rape him given the chance. Only because he was a Death Eater, it did not mean that he enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Or at least not that sort of pain, he backtracked slightly remembering who he was talking about.

Snape was penetrating him with three fingers now and he gave a couple of experimental rotations of his hips to meet them halfway, licking his lips unconsciously. The hungry gaze watching him intensified from one moment to another, and before he could even register it properly, the fingers withdrew to lubricate the rigid member pointing at him eagerly. His thighs were lifted and arranged around the man's waist, before he took himself in one hand, putting the other on Harry's shoulder for better leverage. Then he leaned forward guiding himself to his opening and breached it with one firm push.

Harry cried out breathily despite himself. It was not painful, not at all, just so strange. He felt his inner muscles yield to the slowly intruding thickness bit by bit, until the man's scrotum aligned with his backside. He released the breath he had not realised he was holding and forced himself to relax.

So, that was how it really felt to be intimate with a man. He felt strangely vulnerable for a moment, open, connected. He had not expected something that he considered to be just casual sex to touch him on such a deep, emotional level. The expression on Snape's face close above him was most fascinating too. It was a picture of blatant bliss; closed eyes, relaxed features, mouth slightly open, almost smiling. Harry could not help staring at him in wonder, until the man remembered himself and opened his dark eyes to look down at him.

They were black, not just a really dark brown, but black. He did not think that humans could have eyes like that. Did he have some creature inheritance in his bloodline? One thing though was for sure, they were breathtakingly beautiful.

Catching up with his own thoughts Harry blushed ferociously. Oh, god, how completely and utterly humiliating! Snape was looking at him, face unreadable, and Harry had a sudden urge to go crawl under a rock somewhere and die. Just for how long had he been staring like a besotted fool? Apparently, long enough for the man to notice.

Feeling exceedingly uncomfortable he turned his head away, but was turned back by the gentle pressure of a hand cupping his cheek. Snape leaned in smiling slightly and kissed his lips, reassuring him that he was not thought of any less for his little moment of madness. Then he started thrusting into him with long, measured strokes, picking up pace after a while, and everything was forgotten, drowned in boundless pleasure.

At least for now.


	3. The Arrangement

**Disclaimer: **Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre.

* * *

**THE ARRANGEMENT**

Harry woke up late the next morning, though probably long before Ron would even stir. He lay there in Snape's arms with the man spooned behind him, breathing quietly into his neck. The man was probably awake as well and asking himself what Harry was still doing here, since he already got everything he wanted from him last night.

He was asking himself the very same. Why did he not leave sometime during the night after making sure that Snape was asleep? After they were done, he had asked his questions and got his answers. Answers that had blown his mind away and left him reeling. He had thought that he was slowly getting his life under control? A shit he was getting under control! One did not get around prophesied destiny, and that was it. Kill or be killed, oh man, he was so screwed! And instead of training him, Dumbledore was using him to his own ends, apparently not believing even for a moment that he might have a fighting chance.

He was raising him like a pig for slaughter, manipulating him, so he would be in just the right mindset to sacrifice himself for the greater good, and just at the right moment too, to give the Order an opening to finish off Voldemort in his stead. But they did not know that of course, only a handful of Dumbledore's close confidants knew. To his unfathomable luck yet again, Snape not only happened to be one of those, he was also a selfish enough bastard to care solely for his own needs, the rest of the wizarding world could go hang.

If he was honest with himself, Harry was beginning to see merit in that attitude. Either way, it did not answer his question. Why was he still here?

Thinking about it the answer was rather simple. He wanted to stay. Indefinitely even. He felt safe here, comfortable. Snape did not want him do die, not even to save the world. The man was quite smitten with him, even though he was trying hard to hide it, and wanted him all to himself. He was also ready to take risks in order to obtain and secure what he desired. And he was a damn good lover too, by Harry's standards at least. Harry did not consider himself shallow, so his ugliness did not matter to him much, and his bad temper he could get immune to he supposed, as long as he did not take the insults to heart.

Snape's hand that had been resting against his stomach until now caressed his abdomen once, before making a tentative way lower. Harry opened his legs slightly to give it access to what it sought. To his surprise, the hand stilled instead of going further. Harry frowned, but then smirked after realising that Snape had probably started touching him to get him to leave, assuming that the threat of repeated performance with him would scare him away.

Well, he could not be more wrong on that front. Harry would be happy to take his cock up his arse again. Thanks to the excellent lubricant he was not in the least sore.

He was hardening fast and the hand was hovering still, so he grabbed it and put it where he wanted it, moaning in appreciation at the roughness of callused fingers he was rubbing against his sensitive skin. The fingers curled under his hand, wrapping themselves around his prick, massaging it most wonderfully. He left them to it and threw his head back pressing himself firmer into Snape's chest in the process.

"My, my, I must have left quite an impression for you to be so eager indeed," Snape breathed huskily into his ear, making him shiver in delight. And yet, the undertone of wonder and uncertainty under all the smugness was unmistakable.

"Has no one ever told you just how good a lover you are?" Harry moaned unthinkingly rubbing himself against him like a cat.

The hand stilled again and Harry's eyes flew open in sudden understanding. Apparently not. Apparently, they never even stayed long enough afterwards for an opportunity to arise. That was why he had thought that touching him would be an effective scare tactic. Oh, well, that was what you got for being such a git to everyone he supposed. Though, maybe he was such a git to everyone, because that was what he usually got? Either way, Harry did not see why he should not be honest with him.

"You are a good lover, gentle and considerate, very giving. Too gentle for some I could imagine," he shrugged slightly, "not for me though. I've got it rough enough on day to day basis, I don't need it in bed too."

Snape did not say anything, nor did he move for several long moments. But then the hand resumed massaging him to hardness, while the other began roaming his chest. He felt the man's erection rubbing against his backside and angled his legs to give him a better access. Snape summoned the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table wandlessly and sat up, removing both his hands to Harry's disappointment, to apply it to all the right places. Harry was stretched well enough from the last time, so the preparation did not take long. And then, finally, he was entered slowly from behind.

The angle was different in that position and he arched crying out in pleasure when he was hit spot on right away. Oh, yes, he could get used to that! He could get used to that indeed! Every day, several times a day, Snape could have him whenever he wanted, as far as he was concerned.

Snape pressed him to his chest with his entire left arm lying half on top of him and fucking him with abandon, while his other hand was working on his cock. Harry was putty in his hands, letting him do with him whatever he pleased, moaning and crying out breathily, not even trying to keep the volume down, not even for his pride's sake. Snape however was nearly silent, with the exception of an occasional groan or grunt that made an escape despite his best efforts. With some part of his brain still functioning Harry admired him for his control. To be that collected, even during sex, did require a lot of willpower. Willpower that Harry could only ever dream about, that much was for sure.

Harry came forcefully into Snape's hand that tightened around him almost painfully when the man followed him into bliss not a moment later. The guttural cry muffled slightly by the juncture of his shoulder and neck sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He would not mind hearing it again sometime soon.

Snape pulled out of him and rolled over onto his back taking Harry with him. They lay wrapped around each other catching their breath for a while. Harry was half asleep already when he registered the man under him shift and cast several cleaning charms over them both, before covering them with the duvet. He surely must have imagined the hand running through his hair affectionately, before sleep claimed him for real.

xxxoooxxx

He did not nap for long and when he woke the bed was empty and Snape nowhere in sight. Oh, well, he yawned stretching himself leisurely, he would talk to him later tonight. Feeling tired still, he considered to just go back to sleep for a moment or two, but then dragged himself out of bed and into his pyjamas. It would not do to flaunt their little affair in front of everyone so blatantly. Sirius might either flip the lid or have a heart attack, or both, and the rest would not respond any better. Ron might even quit on him entirely. Strangely enough, it did not bother him much. Hermione would understand he knew without doubt, and her opinion was the only one that mattered to him as of late.

Still, he would be well advised to proceed with caution. There was no telling what Dumbledore might do, should he find out what had happened between them. The sex would be unfortunate enough in the old codger's eyes, the information Snape had put on the table however, might cost the man both his place at Hogwarts and the Order at the very least. Harry was not stupid enough to allow that, nor was Snape.

Dobby delivered him to the communal bathroom at the end of the corridor on the second floor and gave him his letter back. Harry burned it after reading it through, deciding that he would not need any such drastic measures with the man in the future, now that he knew him more intimately. No pun intended. Snape seemed to prefer a state of mutual blackmail more than an outright extermination of all evidence. Thinking about it, it was indeed a better tactic. Incriminating evidence tended to find its way to the surface, no matter how well one covered one's trails. A mutual silence in the face of mutual destruction was a far better insurance.

Having a nice, long shower he took his time to put the new state of affairs into perspective. First and the most personal alteration that occurred since yesterday, he was no longer a virgin. He smirked slightly to himself. Not a day past his fifteenth birthday and he already lost it. He could bet that not even Sirius, who had been quite an infamous skirt-chaser in his day, could boast of such a feat. Technically, he did not feel any different, if you don't count the pleasant throbbing in his bum every time he clenched his muscles slightly. That lubricant was really worth its weight in gold in his opinion. It was the idea in itself that was giving him a slight boost of self-confidence. It almost felt like he had gone through a rite of passage and came out victorious on the other side.

His euphoria left him as soon as it came though when he remembered that it could have happened quite differently. He could be sore and bleeding right now or at least feeling dirty and disgusted with himself all over. Why wasn't he by the way? He had fucked a man twice his age, a man he had no attraction, or any sort of positive feelings, towards at the time, and not just for fun or out of curiosity, but to trade for information. He had whored himself out in the most literal sense of the word.

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool tile letting the warm water cascade down his back. He did not feel anything of the sort. No shame, no disgust. Nothing. Was he losing his moral ground?

His eyes opened again. Had he ever had one in the first place? Or was it just something society and the social circles he had been moving in had forced upon him? He turned the water off and stepped out of the cubicle taking a clean towel from the rack to dry himself with.

He remembered all the times he had stolen as a child. Food mostly, but not exclusively. He had waited until the dead of night to ransack the fridge and the paltry for things that would not be missed. Had stored cans of non-perishables behind his shelf for black days, days he got locked in for lengthy periods of time, mostly after having performed accidental magic. He had taken fruit from the neighbours' gardens, sweets and crisps from Dudley's room and money out of the pockets of his clothes when gathering them for laundry. Sometimes even out of Vernon's wallet. Petunia had been the penny-pinching one, Vernon had never really known how much he had in there. Where survival had been at stake, he never had a moral ground. For him prostitution was just a step up from thieving he supposed. He honestly doubted that he would have felt ashamed, even if Snape had seriously hurt him last night.

However, the man had not, on the contrary, and just like that he had revealed potential to become his most valuable ally. Hermione was a good friend and would do quite a lot for him, but her knowledge, movements and sphere of influence were limited by her age and heritage. Snape could be his ally and lover actually. Harry was seriously considering to separate the two. He had enjoyed having sex with him very much and keeping tabs on the number of encounters versus the number of complied with favours would be rather wearisome in the long run.

He turned around in search of his pyjamas only to find a set of clean day clothes laid out for him already. Dobby was a most diligent personal servant he had to say, daunting personality or not. Definitely worth his keep.

The question remained what else could he offer Snape then? Money? Yes, probably, as long as it was presented in such a way that it would not offend him. Poor like a church mouse almost all his life, at first because of his mother's disownment and then because he had to sell all royalties to the potions he had developed in his younger years to pay the reparations imposed upon him after his trial, Snape was still a damn proud man. A genius Potions Master of his mete could have made a shitload with newly invented potions by now. He however was grounded at Hogwarts, because no one would take a former Death Eater under their patronage.

Well, Harry had no problem with the tattoo, now that Snape had declared himself against his former Maser irrevocably. Together with the circle of containment runes around it, that Snape had actually developed himself over the years, it looked rather sharp against the man's pale skin, if he may be so brazen. He would ask for lesser interests than usual in exchange for the man's tutelage in everything that could help him to survive not only Dumbledore's 'well-meaning' plans and the battlefields of the upcoming war, but also the socio-political arena of the wizarding world.

xxxoooxxx

He entered his and Ron's room at half past eleven only to find the red-head still snoring. Unbelievable! No, scratch that, how very expected. And very fortunate too. He was planning to spend almost every other night in Snape's bed for the rest of the summer holidays, though he probably should not stay out as late as today. Mrs. Weasley would likely have them up and helping with the cleaning of the house no later than nine from now on. An exception was made this one time, because of his birthday party running late last night.

Leaving Ron where he was Harry ventured down to the kitchen for an early lunch. He was not the only late riser there by the looks of it. Sirius was hugging his cup of strong coffee bleary-eyed and terribly hung over, glaring at Remus' cheerful chirpiness on the other side of the table, while Mrs. Weasley was rummaging around the pots and pans, clicking her tongue in disapproval. The twins, Charlie and Ginny were shamelessly enjoying the show.

"You really should ask Severus for a potion, you know," Remus was as always the voice of reason.

Sirius only grunted in response. Harry imagined that he would prefer to suffer, smiled and sat down shaking his head at his godfather's childish antics. In his mid-thirties the man might be, his mind however was stuck in his early twenties and very immature early twenties at that. The years he had spent at Azkaban were like a gaping black hole in the middle of his life and Harry doubted he would ever be able to bridge over it. Not without professional help at least, but to get Sirius to see a Mind Healer would be out of the realm of possibilities. He was just too stubborn to acknowledge any deficiencies in his behaviour. He had been like that before Azkaban already and it was only worse now.

Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand a couple of times and the table was set. "Just fifteen more minutes, dears," she was stirring cream into the deliciously smelling soup pot. "Would someone tell the Professor? And where is Ron?"

"Ron's still sleeping," Harry rose seeing that no one seemed to be too eager to leave their comfortable seats. "I'll tell them both," he waved their offers to relieve him of the duty away. No better opportunity to have a moment alone with Snape.

He stopped by his room on the second floor and levitated Ron's pillow from under his head to hit him a couple of times, until he was awake.

"Lunch's on the table, Ron," he grinned closing the door on the cursing red-head.

Snape had situated his makeshift lab right next to his bedroom on the third floor. To indulge in his customary reclusiveness Harry supposed. The man obviously did like people just as much as they liked him. A win-win situation for everyone really.

He knocked and entered without waiting for a response, closing the door behind him.

"Potter," the man looked up from the ingredients he was cutting on the long counter in the middle of the room. A cauldron of something was bubbling peacefully further away, next to the open window.

"Lunch is ready," Harry went over and leaned against the counter nonchalantly.

"Is it now," he finished his cutting and added the herbs to the cauldron, giving it a couple of elegant stirs, before dousing the flame and covering it to leave the finished potion to steep. Watching the man work was truly a treat. Every movement was graceful and full of purpose, a Master on his playing ground.

Snape cleaned up his working station without looking at him or saying a word. Then he washed and dried his hands, before finally approaching him.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Harry straightened up smirking cockily. "Oh, quite a few things, Professor," he leaned in whispering in the man's ear, "I want you to bend me over this counter and fuck me from behind. I want you to key me into your wards, both here and at Hogwarts, so I can visit you at night. I want to hide under the desk in your classroom and suck your cock while you teach your class." Snape's breathing accelerated noticeably. "Will you be able to keep a straight face when looking into your own godson's eyes while you come into my mouth?"

Snape's arms wrapped themselves around him. Both their chests were heaving by now. Harry was shocked at his own behaviour, as he clung to the man in turn, feeling quite lightheaded due to his dirty talk and the speedy southwards departure of his blood. Where the hell had that come from? All he had wanted when coming here was to ask the man to meet him later tonight for a talk. And now what? They were expected in the kitchen any minute.

Snape was apparently thinking the same. He drew back and cast strong cooling charms on them both. They left their teeth chattering, but did their purpose most effectively.

The man gave him a long, contemplative look after they made themselves presentable again. "Come to my rooms tonight after your friend is asleep and place your hand on the door. It will open for you."

Smirking slightly to himself Harry nodded and departed first. Well, there were many ways to Rome as they said, and that one had not been the worst.

xxxoooxxx

The rest of the day was spent cleaning one of the drawing rooms on the first floor. Sirius had either forgiven or forgotten their disagreement on the usefulness of the Order and was his playful doggy self again. However, Harry's prediction on him being closely watched by Remus turned out to be accurate. On the brighter note, he had conducted a distraction to enable the twins to steal the petrified doxies for their experiments. Sirius had been all but bursting with pride.

After dinner Harry enclosed himself in the library under the pretence of doing his summer assignments. Ron had predictably made himself sparse. He was researching blood wards and all sorts of detection, disabling and concealing magics actually, seeing as he was done with his school work already. It was still an excellent excuse to get rid of any watchful eyes over his shoulder.

The Black family library was full of most interesting texts, a good quarter of them decidedly Dark of course, but there was nothing illegal to his surprise. That was why the youngsters were allowed in there alone in the first place. It suggested the assumption that there must be either a secret library in the house somewhere or the more questionable texts were kept in a vault at Gringotts. He tended towards the later, since it would make more sense. The bank administration stood outside the Ministry law, with the exception of the points laid down in the peace treaty between the British Magical Government and the Goblin Nation. The Ministry had no right to search private vaults without the owners' consent and the goblins simply did not care what was in them, as long as the fees were paid.

His second trip to the Potions Master's rooms was more conventional. He used his invisibility cloak and silencing charms around his feet to get to the third floor undetected. The door opened to him as promised and he went in closing it softly behind him. Snape was sitting in an armchair in front of the empty fireplace with a tumbler of some amber liquor in his hand.

"You are a strange creature, Potter," the man looked up as soon as he emerged from under his cloak and removed the silencing charms.

Harry grinned at him unabashed. Who would have thought that there could ever be a decent conversation between them?

"Is it so hard to believe that I really like being buggered by you?"

"Frankly, yes," Snape knocked back the last of his drink and put the tumbler on the small table next to him. "You might not have noticed, but nubile, young men do not exactly line themselves up to share my bed." He gave him an appreciative one over. "You on the other hand could have anyone, no matter if male or female."

Harry rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, and then read all about it in the next Witch Weekly or the gossip column of the Daily Prophet."

Snape opened his mouth to say something more, but he cut him off waving it away. "Look, do we really need to argue about my choice of lovers?"

He sat down on the bed opposite him folding his hands in his lap. Snape seemed to be quite amused, judged by the laughter clearly visible in his eyes. Harry doubted he had ever seen him in such a good mood before. It made his harsh features softer, less forbidding, even though he really was not an attractive man.

Harry felt his cock stir in his pants and thought that maybe Snape was right and there really must be something wrong with him, if he got hard for the ugly bastard just like that.

"I have a proposition for you," he tried not to blush when the man cocked his eyebrow questioningly. One could say what one wanted, but that one was definitely sexy. "I have thought about what you revealed to me last night and came to the conclusion that I need a tutor. In practically everything from higher magics and duelling to politics and societal know how. If you are amenable, I can promise you absolute dedication to whatever you deem necessary for me to learn, despite our prior experience in the classroom."

Snape smirked like he got the canary and glided over towards him, before pushing him up the bed and settling himself on top of him.

"And what will I get in return for my troubles, Mr. Potter?" His long fingers sensually caressed the contours of Harry's face. "The pleasures of your body after every session?"

"No, actually, I believe that we have already established that you can have the pleasures of my body whenever you want, independent from any business agreements." Snape's burning gaze intensified and Harry panted licking his dry lips in an attempt to hold onto his concentration a bit longer. "I had something along the lines of sponsoring your research projects for a token percentage in mind."

Snape sat up suddenly, all the playfulness forgotten to Harry's disappointment. There was a hunger of a different kind in his eyes now.

"A token percentage of what proportions exactly?"

Harry was just about ready to pound nails, but acknowledged that Snape would not touch him, until the proposal was laid out properly. This was too important. The man had probably been waiting for an opportunity like that for decades to be distracted by sex now.

"20-30 % of the royalties, depending on the initial cost of development."

The man had an excellent poker face, but the utter glee in his eyes was betraying him.

"That would be acceptable."

Harry nearly snorted. Usually, Research Potioneers under patronage could count themselves lucky to get the pittance Harry was asking for out of their own inventions. That was why most of them kept their best projects to themselves, until such a time when they were making enough to become independent. Snape would be a brain-dead idiot to refuse such a generous offer.

"Good, write up proper propositions for the projects you want funds on and then we'll negotiate the contracts. I want to see some sort of study schedule too, though I suppose the later would have to wait until school starts."

He rose to his knees and wrapped his arms around Snape's neck and shoulders, bringing their faces close together.

"Now, I believe we have another unfinished business here."

The man wrapped his arms around him, but did not continue their foreplay. The look on his face was rather strange and Harry did not know what to make of it at the moment, so he slid his fingers into his hair instead. It looked greasy, but did not feel like it at all. If anything, it felt wet.

He breathed in deeply. It smelt tangy, like some sort of potion. Together with the man's aftershave it combined to a rather lovely odour. And somewhere in the back of his mind it made click. Grapman's Protective Tincture, the reason Potions Masters were no longer bald by the age of thirty. He could not help giggling in delight. Mother of Merlin, they all were idiots!

"What is so amusing now, Potter?"

The tone was colder than Arctic and Harry winced realising that his laughter could be misinterpreted rather easily.

"Oh, nothing of importance," he kept his tone playful and pulled at one of the man's strands. "I've just solved one of the mysteries of the universe."

It took but a moment for the man to realise what he was talking about and the closed off features melted into a smug smirk.

"I'll let you know that it was I who had started those rumours, Potter."

He grabbed his arse with both hands and pressed their pelvises together. Harry moaned and arched then his neglected member came in contact with Snape's own. Enough talking! He wanted that cock rubbing against his prostate as soon as possible!

As if hearing his thoughts, Snape drew his wand and their clothes fluttered to the floor. Harry was flipped on his back and his legs pulled apart for the man to settle in between.

The last thought that passed through his mind, before he fell asleep against Snape's chest afterwards, was that he did not care in the least if there really was something wrong with him for wanting the ugly bastard's cock so badly. He had been a freak all his life, in the wizarding world just as much as in the muggle one.

He could live with it just fine.

xxxoooxxx

"You would have done well in Slytherin."

Snape's tone was measured and thoughtful. Harry could not decide if he should laugh or cry at that. Oh, the irony! The IRONY!

"I know. The Sorting Hat has told me as much."

He could almost hear the eyebrow rise behind him and grinned despite himself. He also knew that it was late enough in the morning and he'd better get going, if he wanted to avoid uncomfortable questions, but somehow could not bring himself to leave the circle of the man's arms just yet. He blamed his miserable childhood for that.

"You have always been like this? Then I have to wonder how you managed to project the Gryffindor Golden Boy so flawlessly."

"The answer is Dumbledore of course," Harry sighed feeling like he should be angry with the old man, but was not sure if it would be worth the energy. "I don't want to go into detail, but let's say I survived my early formative years with the muggles against all odds. One cannot come out of it anything but a Slytherin with less savoury tendencies, and I am no exception."

Snape stiffened slightly, but did not comment. Being the Head of that house he probably knew what Harry was talking about even better than he did.

"But then, literally out of nowhere, came Hagrid and dumped the wizarding world on my head with just about as much grace and understanding as he usually shows. To say that I was overwhelmed would be an understatement, so I opted to stay on the safe side and went with the flow."

He sighed remembering his first trip to Diagon Alley. It felt bitter-sweet, even then.

"I would have found my footing eventually, if not for the tasks, tests and adventures Dumbledore kept me busy with," he snorted. "He played me most masterfully for four years, never allowing me a breather, never giving me time to stop and think. But then, last month he made a huge mistake," Harry paused for dramatic effect and smirked imagining Snape waiting impatiently for him to continue. "He isolated me, left me alone with my thoughts for weeks on end. He should have known better, he should have realised that me and thinking would not end well for him."

He stretched himself and reluctantly wriggled out of Snape's arms, sitting up and turning around to face him. "The man must be getting old to miscalculate so badly," he smiled coyly. "Either that or he got blinded by the shiny image of a perfect hero he himself has created."

The Potions Master's face was unreadable. Though, Harry could well imagine what was going through his head right now. 'And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal...' He smirked and pecked the man on the lips, before getting out of bed and into his pyjamas.

"Don't worry too much, Snape. I have no megalomaniac tendencies, nor a desire to rule the world. I don't even understand why anyone would want to. Can you imagine all the paperwork?"

Snape was eyeing him sceptically, eyebrow lifted, and Harry snickered and shook his head at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"See you later," he waved once and disappeared under his cloak, before heading out towards his room. Honestly, the man needed to loosen up a bit. He was far too serious for his own good.

xxxoooxxx

Groaning and stretching his crumpled muscles he gave the pile of books and parchments in front of him a resigned glare. How Hermione could find enthusiasm and even joy in that sort of work would always remain a mystery to him. The pricy cologne she gave him for his birthday had been a rather nice surprise. He had expected a book.

Speaking of pricy things, Ron could barely look at him these days. And he at Ron in turn. The blatant envy in his eyes was nothing short of disgusting. Not even becoming a prefect or the broom he had received for making it a prefect seemed to have placated him a bit. It had been bad enough in their earlier years at Hogwarts, but now it was nearly unbearable. If things continued that way, they were going to have words and not exactly friendly ones at that.

Unbelievable but true, three weeks had passed since his arrival at Grimmauld Place. He was so busy that he barely noticed the lapse of time. His daily routine was as followed: wake up in Snape's arms, make your way back to your room unnoticed, morning ablutions, breakfast, clean the house, lunch, clean or enjoy free time larking around with Sirius and Remus or the Weasley children, dinner, study in the library, evening ablutions, wait until Ron is asleep, make your way to Snape's rooms unnoticed, have a nice chat and even better sex, fall asleep right afterwards. He had not spent even one night in his own bed so far, though he supposed that he should enjoy it as long as he could, since he would not have the same luxury at Hogwarts.

At least now that they had finalised the first financial agreements, his research and studies were well directed by Snape and he did not have to waste time on going through books that did not contain what he was looking for. The more he looked into the post-N.E.W.T. level magics, the clearer became his academic deficiencies though. His worst mistake to date could very well have been to follow Ron's lead in the choice of electives. Arithmancy he supposed he could have scrapped by without after Hogwarts, since he had a solid knowledge of muggle maths, Ancient Runes however was something he'd better learn now and quickly, if he wanted to get anywhere with higher magics at all.

Point remained that he would not be able to secure his trunk against unwanted visitors as absolutely as he had originally wanted to. He simply did not have the understanding needed at the moment and to ask Snape to do it for him was risky, since it would leave the man's magical signature behind. The stronger security was simply not worth the trouble that could arise, so he opted for the sneaky and crafty route instead. Simple, nearly undetectable, perimeter wards would alert him to any intruders and their identity and the long-lasting and very painful prank hexes would admittedly not stop them, but could make said intruders greatly regret it at least.

And if all else failed, there was a plethora of detection magics that he planned to utilise regularly, just to be on the safe side. If something turned out to be beyond his skill to remove, he could always ask Dobby to take care of it.

He had talked to Professor McGonagall about dropping Divination, but unfortunately, since he had taken only the minimum required number of electives, he would not be able to until after his O.W.L.s. She had been very pleased to learn that he was finally beginning to take his studies seriously. He wondered if she would still think the same after seeing the number of detentions he was planning to receive form Snape this year. He might even beat the twins' record by the looks of it. It sucked of course that he would not have even a minute to himself, but survival was a rather convincing argument. He had even considered quitting the Quidditch team, only to reconsider. He would need something fun (other than sex) to unwind and relax or he might go insane.

Sirius pocked his head in when he was gathering his notes, after deciding that he had enough for today. Remus was hot on his heels. Harry barely managed to catch a sneer and a scathing comment worthy of Snape himself seeing that. Honestly, did it not annoy his godfather to be babysat? Then again, had he even noticed? He blinked watching Sirius bounce towards him. Probably not.

"Look at this, so studious! Lily would be proud."

"Needs must, godfather mine," Harry gave him a lopsided grin and sent the books back to their places on the shelves with a flick of a wand, before Remus could get close enough to read the titles. He was getting better at wordless incantations the more he practiced. Snape had ordered him to it already, even though it would not be required until sixth year.

"Are you exited for your trial tomorrow?" He stood up stretching his arms over his head. He was beginning to suspect that the knots and cramps in his muscles he was plagued with constantly were more due to the Growth Potion than his sitting in one position for longer periods of time.

"Exited? Not at all!" Sirius slapped his hand over his heart feigning indignation.

Harry and Remus rolled their eyes simultaneously. He had been like a chipmunk on sugar rush since eight in the morning and there was no end in sight. Though, he really had nothing to be worried about. The trial was just a formality. His solicitor had even started negotiating the compensation already.

Sirius put a hand on his shoulder looking uncharacteristically solemn. "You know I would have petitioned for custody of you directly after the trial?"

Harry nodded. That was probably the reason why Dumbledore had never bothered with clearing things up on that front during these past two years. He had even speculated at one point that the old man might have had a hand in the miscarriage of justice. The archive records had proven otherwise though. Dumbledore had spoken himself out against the swift justice, not only in the case of Sirius Black, but also five others, whose families were now clamouring for it to be remedied as well, in front of the Wizengamot back then, but had been overruled by Minister Bagnold and the rest of the court in favour of Crouch Sr.'s decision.

"It's a moot point now of course, but I wanted you to know that any door of mine will be always open for you, should you ever need it."

Harry sighed and pulled him into a one-armed hug smiling sadly. Oh how he wished it to be true, but knew with an absolute certainty that when the cards were finally on the table and the time came to take sides, Sirius would turn away from him. He was too much of a Gryffindor to ever agree with a Slytherin, since in his eyes Slytherin equalled all things evil. It was a matter of principle before anything else, and neither sense nor reason would ever convince him otherwise.

They went down to the kitchen to join the rest of the household for a cup of tea before bed smiling and joking around light-heartedly. Harry sat amidst all the happiness decidedly torn in his feelings. On the one hand, that Snape was not present and not even spared a passing thought on was a good example as to the superficiality of their welcome and acceptance, and a good inkling as to what he could expect from these people in the future. On the other hand, their warmth and open friendliness towards each other was undoubtedly genuine.

But that exactly was the operative statement here he supposed, 'towards each other', only towards each other, only towards people who were just as happy, open and carefree as themselves. They did not want their little get-together spoiled by the presence of a jaded, bitter pariah, not even out of obligation towards him as an ally to their course. Harry may be not forbidding, nor nowhere near as nasty as Snape was towards most people, he was however just as jaded and bitter. Yes, at fifteen already. He simply chose not to show it.

These people around him, they smiled at the Boy-Who-Lived and gushed over the Child of the Prophecy, they joked with the Gryffindor Golden Boy and patted James' son on the shoulder. None of them knew Harry, and when they have finally made his acquaintance he sincerely doubted that they would want him here among them still.

xxxoooxxx

The trial lasted less than half an hour and the press conference afterwards twice as long. Harry got a feeling that they were more interested in what he had to say on the matter than the newly reinstalled Lord Black. The next stop was of course Ollivander's, since Sirius' wand had been snapped long ago, and then finally, finally his godfather was amenable to go home. Honestly, one would think the man was enjoying the whole circus a bit too much.

The 'Welcome-back-to-society!' party was magnificent and lasted well into the early morning hours. Harry had excused himself shortly before midnight though, not wanting to miss out on his usual nightly activities. Snape was pleased to see him, being slightly down in the mouth and needing a bit of comfort, even though he would drop dead before admitting any such thing. Harry was only too happy to oblige.

The next morning the kitchen was completely dark and empty for the first time since his arrival here. He made tea and warmed up some leftovers from last night just in time for Snape to arrive. The man halted in the doorway for a moment, before coming in and taking a seat. He even allowed himself a surprised look, when Harry served them both without hesitation. Despite Mrs. Weasley's best efforts, the man was apparently still not used to consideration towards his person. Harry had to hide his grin away.

It was strangely pleasant to sit there and have breakfast just the two of them, even though they were not talking at all. Maybe precisely because of that? He was not used to just sitting and drinking his tea in peace, with someone else to share the silence.

Snape finished up quickly and made his excuses, leaving him to come to the realisation that sitting and drinking his tea in peace all alone was indeed not the same.

Two owls fluttered in trough the invisible shafts in the walls. The whole house was permeated with them to allow the birds to reach their recipients unhindered. Quite genius, if he may say so! One of them was bringing him his Daily Prophet and the other a letter from Hermione by the looks of it. He relieved them of their burdens and offered some strips of ham, which they gratefully took before taking off.

Hermione's letter was as always a carefully crafted tale of her little summer adventures and misadventures, this time followed up with congratulations to Sirius to be passed on. It was the small flower doodled into the corner of the parchment that caught his immediate attention though. He cut the strip containing it off the bottom of the letter and touched the flower with his wand whispering the password. Thanks Sirius and Remus for spilling the Marauder's Map making process one evening after a couple of drinks.

A new line appeared.

'I need to talk to you in person as soon as possible. Preferably, someplace muggle.'

He burned the strip and vanished the ashes furrowing his brows in deep thought. Well, shit!

Somehow he had a feeling that he would not like whatever it was she had to tell him so urgently. Not at all.


	4. Dreams and Nightmares

**Disclaimer: **Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre.

* * *

**DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES**

Standing in the driveway of their soon to be sold residence Hermione waved at the speeding away cab one more time before going back inside. It was the last week of August and uncharacteristically hot for an English summer, thus she could not get inside the nicely air-conditioned house soon enough. Her parents were now on the way to the airport to go to Sydney, Australia where they would spend the entire next month deciding on a property to settle in permanently, and have a good look around when they were at it as well.

She sighed wistfully taking in the well known and loved surroundings of her childhood home. She lost count of how many times she had wished that there was another way, but alas, there was nothing for it. The war was coming. Harry may have had an admirable success at slowing down Voldemort's plans, the fact remained thought that those plans were still in progress and nothing short of death would stop that madman from picking up right where he had left off the last time. Being a rather high profile muggleborn, even without her friendship to Harry, meant that she and her family were a prime target. To make them leave the country via Suggestion Potion had been the only reasonable solution she could come up with, while sitting at Harry's bedside the day after the thrice damned tournament. And even now, after thinking about it at length, no solution more elegant came to mind.

Many people were going to just lean back and expect The-Boy-Who-Lived to pull another miracle out of his arse. She however knew better after watching him in the last month of school. The thin line of his mouth and the look in his eyes were saying it all.

'Go find yourself another hero, people! I'm out of here as soon as your backs are turned!'

He had confided to her once that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered him for Slytherin, but until those four short weeks before the end of term she had barely ever seen anything confirming it. In response, she herself was making plans to do a runner as soon as it became clear that there was no future for her kind in Wizarding Britain. Foolishly idealistic it may be, but she loved the country of her birth and had not lost all hope yet. That was why she would send her parents ahead and stay behind for now.

Strangely enough, her parents had been far more receptive to the idea of a complete change of scenery so to speak than she had originally anticipated, Suggestion Potion or not. Apparently, they had been planning to acquire a second residence somewhere Mediterranean to retire to on their old days. Australia may be a bit further away than that, but just as good, if not better, since there would be no language barrier. Thus, she did not feel too bad about forcing them into realising their plans a decade or two sooner and on more permanent terms than they would have otherwise.

After making some preliminary calculations her parents had decided that it would cost them less to order a container and ship their entire household over, instead of selling everything and buying it new there. Consequently, only the house and the cars would be sold. Everything else needed to be packed safely for transport. Her father had taken apart and packed all the furniture in the spacious guest bedroom on the ground floor. It was now delegated to serve as storage for the finished packages and boxes and was filling nicely with every passing day.

She poured herself a glass of lemonade and proceeded to the sitting room stuffed with packing materials and old boxes from the cleared out attic to be gone through before either packing or disposing of the contents. Her parents had set her the task to be done before she returned to school come September. Hermione did not mind. It was like a trip into family history. Every little trinket held its own story to guess, some of them even to remember. It was most entertaining!

Sitting down on the floor next to the coffee table she pulled the closest battered looking box towards her and opened it with the kitchen knife.

Oh, wow! She pulled out a glittering lilac fairy costume, complete with cute little ballet pumps and wand with a star on top. She remembered that one! Oh, yes, she remembered it well, even though she must have been barely five at the time. It was also one of the times she remembered to have performed accidental magic as a child.

She had gone through the entire Walt Disney's Fairytales Collection Box she had received for Christmas countless times and to her very pragmatic and practical parents' dismay could not stop whining and nagging until they bought her that costume. The dismay only intensified when she refused to wear anything but that costume for quite a while, always running around the house and waiving her wand, blathering nonsensical magic words, and stopped only after her mother had put her foot down and threatened to never let her watch any of the movies again. Neither of her parents had ever noticed the star on top of her wand glow and emit multicoloured sparks from time to time when she was the most exited. She however had noticed very much.

So much actually that she had convinced herself that her parents were not her real parents, that she was a magical being, a fairy princess stolen away from her fairy queen mother and fairy king father. And that one day they would find her and take her away to their kingdom where she would sit on her own princess throne next to her parents and have an army of maids and servants, and everything a little girl could possibly wish for. And when she grew up she would be stolen by an evil wizard (because all princesses seemed to at some point), who would meet his well deserved end at the hand of her very own Prince Charming storming the black tower sword brandished to rescue her. And then they would fall madly in love with each other, marry and live happily ever after.

Gods, she was so glad that she had never said any of that aloud for her parents to hear! She had convinced herself then that they did not know that she was not their daughter and had not wanted to upset them, since they were so nice to her. Thankfully, she had grown out of that nonsense by the time she had started primary school and discovered her love for books and learning that had stayed with her until today. Reading had always seemed a far better way to occupy her time than flighty fancies and frivolous games other girls her age liked to indulge in so much. But even embracing the logic and rationality of academics in full could never quite make her let go of that one fantasy her childish mind had conjured up. And when she grew, learned and made new discoveries, developing mentally and physically, the fantasy changed and developed with her, progressively turning into very real wishes and desires.

She sighed tossing the costume into the trash sack. She was a young woman now, not a child, and yet she could not deny any longer that many of her actions in the recent years were a direct result of that one secret longing to be a princess. A proper princess in everything she was and everything she did, in every possible meaning of the word. Beautiful, elegant, intelligent, well mannered and well educated, accomplished, skilful, wealthy, privileged, respectable, popular, but also strong in body and mind, understanding, loving, kind, responsible, reliable, capable, and then of course sexy, playfully coy, even a bit feisty. In short, every young prince's dream bride.

Needless to say, she had not been entirely successful on that front, even though she had inherited a considerable fortune after her grandparents' deaths and made progress in the beauty department in leaps and bounds the entire last year. She had even managed to bag in a handful of very eligible young men, one of them especially promising, even if only for a short time.

As encouraging as that small triumph was, it was also very sobering in regards to making a good match in her own country. Viktor was a foreigner and thus not quite as rigid in the pureblood ideology as her fellow countrymen. To her absolute astonishment, he had let slip that his family was actually Dark, but would not mind to see a permanent arrangement between them. In fact, the old pureblood families of the Eastern Europe were now actively looking for eligible muggleborn spouses for their children, earnestly afraid that if they do not bring fresh blood into their lines now, their steadily dwindling families would disappear within a handful of generations. Hermione could only compliment them on their return to common sense. The 'princes' of the British wizarding world however were nowhere near as reasonable. She suspected that most of them were so stupidly obtuse that they would rather let their bloodlines die out, before allowing them to be 'tainted'.

Even though they had decided that their relationship would not work out for them long-term, mainly because of different expectations concerning family planning and respective careers, they had a lot of interesting conversations on the topic. She had even ordered some muggle scientific works on biology, genetics and specifically, the consequences of inbreeding for him. He had been absolutely astounded at the sheer depth of expertise muggles of all things possessed, but had made copies for all of his friends and had even sent some home. Hermione had decided not to take his bigotry to heart, far too happy in the knowledge that the information would hit home and undoubtedly spread like wildfire just where she wanted it the most. She could not resist turning her nose up and informing him that they were living on the verge of the 21st century and not the Middle Ages anymore though.

The box she was currently working on, and by the looks of it quite a few others, contained mostly her old toys and clothes. They were in a rather good condition, so she decided to wash and give them to charity, instead of just throwing it all away. She carried the relevant boxes to the laundry room and emptied them out on the floor, before sorting everything by colour and stuffing the first load into the washing machine. In that heat she supposed they would be dry within an hour or two at most.

By the time evening arrived she had not only managed to sort through the rest of the boxes, which was not really surprising, since the only things in them worth keeping had been the spare kitchen utensils and china, but also delivered the boxes of freshly washed clothes and toys to the small collection station next to the church a mere block down the street. The vicar's wife had been gushing in delight and even helped her with carrying it all over. Apparently, baby and infant clothing was always in high demand. Hermione could only sympathise.

It felt strange to be in the empty house all by herself. She had been alone at home countless times before, but that one felt suspiciously like loneliness. It was not even six o'clock and having nothing else to do to keep the gloomy thoughts away she decided to take the train two stations down to Salisbury. There was a small wizarding community with a market street there, probably due to its closeness to the Stonehenge. That was where she usually owl posted her letters to her friends, not having an owl of her own.

Dressed in a flowery sundress and sandals she put her wand into her handbag together with her letters and a small sack of Galleons, and ventured out. Not for the last time, it irked her very much that she was not permitted to do magic during the holidays. The more so, because most of her pureblood and even some of the halfblood peers had strongly warded residences that were allowing them wand usage without being detected by the Ministry. It was highly unfair! Britain was also the only country in the world with such strict regulations concerning underage magic. Thinking even further, Wizarding Britain was one of the most conservative and retrogressive countries in the world as well. But considering the constant political power-play between the Light and the Dark factions of the Wizengamot, it was no wonder that nothing even remotely progressive was being done, and as usual, it were your average people that were suffering the most. The constant state of discontent was also the reason charismatic Dark Lords could draw a following so quickly. If she had any say on the matter of undermining Voldemort's basis of support, the socio-political arena was where she would start. Now that he was a Lord with full voting rights, she and Harry would have a lot to talk about come September, that much was for sure.

The train journey lasted only ten minutes and she was strolling down the lane towards the Prancing Dragon, the local wizarding pub, behind which lay the tiny shopping district of the local wizarding community. She posted her letters and decided to sit down to a bowl of delicious ice cream. It was not Fortescue's of course, but nice enough in its own right. She was enjoying herself so much that she had not noticed the shady figures watching her from a nearby alley. The long blond-haired man sitting several tables behind her with a paper however had.

She was walking back towards the train station, smiling slightly to herself when a spell hit her from behind and everything went black.

xxxoooxxx

Coming slowly to her the first thing Hermione became aware of were arguing voices.

"I'm goin' first, Reno! Ye were first the las' time!"

"A shit ye will! I saw her first, she's mine!"

The second thing she became aware of was that she was bound with ropes and lying on her back in some woodland clearing.

"Dosn' matter that ye saw her first! It's my turn and that's that!"

Two dirty mongrels clad in shabby, grey robes hanging of their emaciated forms were looming above her. She tried to scream, only to find herself spelled silent as well.

"Oh, loo'! She's awake. Hullo, pretty missy!"

The one closest tried to reach out for her, but was intercepted by his companion.

"I said I'm goin' first, dammit! So keep yer mitts to yerself!"

Suddenly, a purple beam of light hit him in the side and he keeled over convulsing and coughing up blood. The other fellow gave a squeal of fright and tried to apparate away, only to find that he couldn't. Squeaking and turning in circles in panic he was shooting off spells blindly, until his leg was hit with a bone crushing curse, bringing him down right next to his slowly suffocating companion. Screaming and flapping around like a fish out of water he was cut down for good when another bone crushing curse hit his neck. For several long moments the only sounds in the clearing were those of weak choking, until those too ceased entirely.

Hermione watched them both die with a strange sense of detachedness that her analytical mind immediately attributed to a state of sheer shock. Another wizard stepped into the clearing and just like that she could not decide if she should be relieved or fear for her life again. For surely, Lucius Malfoy, a remote place and no witnesses around could mean nothing good for her.

The man flicked his wand a couple of times almost leisurely and her ropes and magical bindings fell away. She sat up slowly, looking around in search of her handbag, but also keeping an eye on the approaching man. She found it between the protruding roots of a tree some fifteen feet to her left, untouched, but also well out of reach. Damn!

"Stupid mudblood," he drawled with his customary haughtiness striding forward with an arrogant confidence of someone who owned anything he saw. "Roaming about a wizarding area in disgusting muggle clothes with your head stuck in the clouds during wartime? You are all but issuing an invitation!"

He was dressed rather casually she could not help but notice; dragonhide knee-high boots, midnight-blue pants of fine linen, a light-blue silk tunic, finished off with an open, sleeveless, midnight-blue silk robe. Lucius Malfoy had always reminded her of the men on the glossy covers of her mother's hidden stash of Charlotte Featherstone novels. She had discovered that exceedingly educational literature behind some old files in her mother's study at the impressionable age of twelve. Her mother had never found out. But that aside, he was also unmistakeably a Death Eater.

She blinked and furrowed her brows in confusion, lowering her gaze to the bodies sprawled in front of her for a moment. If he was the Death Eater here, who the bloody hell were they?

As if reading her thoughts, Malfoy sneered in disgust, but answered her unspoken question anyway. "It is always the same in the times of conflict, girl. While the bigger animals fight for dominance, the gutter rats are crawling boldly out of their holes, smelling opportunity. But of course, whenever a mudblood was found dead in the woods, raped and tortured, or someone's home was looted and burned down, it was always the work of Death Eaters, was it not?"

He sounded almost bitter. She could not help but snort. "If you are fishing for sympathy, you are here definitely wrong."

To her surprise, he chuckled instead of becoming angry. Feeling strangely encouraged she made a dash towards her handbag, pulled her wand out and pointed it at him. He did not stop her, just stood there watching on and smirking in amusement.

"You owe me your life and honour, girl, so put that thing away before you hurt yourself."

As annoyed as she was at being treated like a child, his words gave her pause. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes feeling for her core. Shit, shit, shit! Her eyes flew open and she was staring at him like a deer in the headlights. As wonderful as magic was and as much as she loved it, there were moments when she absolutely hated it. And this was definitely one of them. She really felt like crying right now, but settled on giggling hysterically instead.

"Are you well, Ms. Granger?" He was eyeing her seemingly concerned.

She shook her head continuing to laugh, before finally breaking down and sobbing for real. She had been kidnapped and nearly raped and killed today, had watched her tormentors die, and was now owing Lucius Malfoy a Life Debt. She was NOT well, thank you very much!

"Now, now, surely, it is not quite this bad," the bastard drawled oozing smug amusement.

She stopped bawling immediately and gave him her most venomous death glare. He however just chuckled and turned away to take care of the bodies of the two lowlifes he had put down earlier. And by 'take care' was meant to dispose of them with alarmingly practiced ease. Though, somehow she could give a rat's arse as to what would happen to them. She sincerely doubted anyone would miss them much anyway.

He appropriated their wands and searched them carefully, not finding anything interesting though, before transfiguring them into a bone and burying them deeply at the foot of the next best tree. Then, he scourgified the ground of the blood and other incriminating evidence.

"What will happen when the transfiguration wears off? Will they not pop out in the open or something similar?" She had asked herself that question ever since Harry had told her about the whereabouts of Crouch Sr.'s body.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her in obvious surprise, probably taken aback by her clinical curiosity and unfeminine lack of squeamishness. Hermione could not care less what he thought of her, sitting on the root of the tree she had found her handbag under and making herself presentable again, using the mirror inside her powder box.

"Not if they are buried deeply enough. A slight mound will appear of course, but as long as it is not in the middle of a clearing a casual passer-by would hardly notice."

He approached her, coming to a halt mere two feet away. Hermione had to suppress a shudder of fear and unease, despite being quite sure that he had no intentions to harm her. After all, if he wanted to, he would have done so already. Done with her make-up she closed the powder box with a snap and looked up to meet his eyes, only to notice that it was not her face they were directed at. Holy Mother of Merlin! Could this evening possibly get any more bizarre than it already was?

"Are you honestly staring at my tits, Mr. Malfoy? Is my blood not a bit too muddy for your tastes?"

She stood up assuming that he would step back to give her personal space. He however grabbed her waist pulling her into a firm embrace. "Don't presume to know anything about my tastes, girl," he growled against her neck breathing in deeply, as if to become acquainted with her scent.

Her mind went blank for several long moments. Then, panic set in. She struggled to break free and push him away, all in vain of course. Not only was she a full head shorter, she was certainly no match in strength for him.

"You are going to finish what those bastards started then?" She was just about ready to break out in tears again.

"Why would I have to?" He raised his head smirking down at her in idle amusement, his steel grey eyes glinting in the light of the setting sun. "All I would need to do is to simply ask."

She stopped struggling and closed her eyes, giving in to the resignation. He was right of course, he could simply ask. To ask for sexual favours as a settlement of a Life Debt was unusual, but certainly not unheard of. And with his wife dead for almost two months now he did not have contractual restrictions to worry about anymore, if there had been any in the first place.

"However, I will not." She opened her eyes again to be met with a thoughtful, calculating gaze. "No, I have something different in mind."

In the privacy of her thoughts she began panicking again. Different did not necessarily mean better, and even if it did, then certainly not for her. Before she could begin to contemplate a possible course of action though, Malfoy summoned her handbag and turned on the spot apparating them both away.

xxxoooxxx

"You must be joking!"

He must be. That he could possibly be serious was absolutely out of the realm of imagination.

"I assure you, Ms. Granger, that I am perfectly serious. And I do not see why my proposition is so distasteful to you. As promising as your academic achievements are, they alone will not move you up in our world, doubly so because of your muggle heritage. Also, as lovely as you may be, because of that heritage and a lack of fortune your prospects to make an eligible match and promote yourself that way are nearly nonexistent. You would be in need of patronage either way and as a companion by my side doors will be opened to you that would be forever out of your reach otherwise."

She threw her head back laughing mirthlessly. Scratch that, it was Lucius Malfoy she was talking about, of course he would be serious! The arrogant, pompous arsehole! Who did he think he was dealing with? Some poor little servant girl offered to be Cinderella for a day?

They were sitting in one of the lavish drawing rooms at Malfoy manor. After apparating them into his home Malfoy had invited her to stay for dinner and offered her one of the guest rooms to freshen herself up. Draco was apparently visiting elsewhere, thus they had eaten alone and retired to this place with tea and biscuits, where Lord Malfoy had put forth his 'generous proposition'.

She sneered at him haughtily. "Don't presume to know anything about my fortune, marriage prospects or possible career options, Mr. Malfoy. I have been proposed by no less than five young men, three of them of old pureblood descent, in the past six months alone. So, either you offer me your hand properly or you can go look for a mistress elsewhere."

"Three young men of old pureblood descent?" He scoffed unimpressed. "Like who? The Weasleys?"

She scoffed derisively in return despite herself. She liked the Weasleys, but out of their extensive brood only Bill and the twins could be considered anywhere near eligible husband material in her books. That aside, red-head was not quite her type.

"Krum, Rheingard and Venreux, if you must know."

That got his attention she could tell by the shuttered look on his face. He blinked once, twice. "You must have a substantial dowry then."

"One hundred thousand."

She grinned smartly seeing the slight widening of his eyes that he obviously had failed to suppress. She had inherited quite a load from her grandparents, but had only partial access to it until she turned eighteen.

Another blink. "Galleons?"

"Of course Galleons, and it's only the liquid assets. So, let me respectfully tell you just where you can shove your magnanimity and your noblesse oblige attitude. If you want sex, then you'll get sex, and after the Life Debt is settled we are done. But if you want to keep me then you will have to do things properly. And by properly I mean a prenuptial agreement followed by a traditional courtship. And just so we understand each other," she leaned slightly forward with a hard look in her eyes to drive the knife home. "If not for the Life Debt, I would have never even considered you."

Malfoy's jaw developed a twitch, together with the fingers of his wand hand. That must have hit his oversized ego quite hard, she took a sip of her tea to hide her smirk away. Honestly, what did he expect? He may be filthily rich and build like a Grecian god, but he was also insufferably arrogant and full of himself, and only because some women would fall over themselves to please him, it did not mean that all would. Though, if she was honest with herself, she was rather positively surprised that they were having this conversation at all, no matter how offended she was by his offer. If asked only yesterday, she would have sworn that the man would never so much as be caught dead in the same room alone with a muggleborn, much less want to take one to his bed.

"I see," came a somewhat restrained sounding response. "I will have my solicitor draw up a standard contract and send you a copy. I would like to begin negotiations as soon as possible, if you are amenable."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "As you wish."

He was actually ready to go through with it? Somehow it smelled suspiciously like desperation. Or was she missing something here? Unless...

"Is it because of the Ministry still breathing down your neck? Have you not declared yourself against your former Master rather publicly after your wife's body was finally found?"

He pursed his lips wryly. "Not quite. The Ministry prosecution is long done with. Unfortunately, it has ruined my good name in the public's eye quite thoroughly. I may declare myself all I want, but people will be weary of me still." He raised his eyebrow with a sardonic glint in his eye. "Honestly, I would not have cared less, if not for the disastrous consequences this atmosphere of mistrust and isolation will have on my business ventures. I could lose deals worth millions. It is not to be tolerated."

"Ah, to have a muggleborn girlfriend by your side, even if only for a while, would make people see that you mean it," she concluded huffing in derision. And since no muggleborn in her right mind would want to become involved with him willingly, her Life Debt could not have come at a better time. Bastard! The idea had probably occurred to him as soon as he saw that scum go after her. Why else would he have been bothered to come to her rescue otherwise? "Well, you will have to make do with a muggleborn wife now."

"Such a tragedy, whatever will I do with you?" He eyed her up and down suggestively.

Hermione could not help blushing, yet raised her eyebrow in return. "And it honestly would not discommode you to share a life and a bed with a muggleborn? Somehow I have my difficulties imagining it."

Malfoy grimaced, but was in a generous enough mood to explain himself to her.

"I have been raised to uphold certain beliefs of course, but it was not until I have entered the political arena barely out of Hogwarts after my father's sudden illness and swift death that my dislike for all things muggle became personal. The Light extremists have been using the muggleborn as a play-ball to promote their politics and undermine ours for centuries, Dumbledore however has managed to hone that weapon to perfection. And just like that, the muggleborn became the reason for the decay of our culture, the downfall of our faith and the downright persecution of the old ways and magics. Because of you our history fell into obscurity and our oldest traditions became outlawed, how could I possibly not hate you? And I raised my son in the very same beliefs."

Hermione listened with bated breath. It was a rare opportunity indeed to get the other side of the story as an uncensored edition.

"But then came the Dark Lord and promised a return to the old ways, the restoration of the wizarding culture and usage of all magics without Ministry regulation. And if it could be achieved only through a violent revolt, so be it. The Knights of Walpurgis were an extreme, yet purely political organisation active in the late sixties, early seventies when I was still at Hogwarts. They were quite successful too, having the backup of many old pureblood families inside the country and out of it. In the middle of seventies though, something went wrong... with Him. For some unknown reason His mind snapped and the Knights of Walpurgis became the Death Eaters. The fighters for freedom and tolerance became a group of terrorists out for world domination and muggle subjugation, spreading mindless destruction and fear through the entire wizarding world."

He paused taking a sip of his tea to wet his throat.

"When I joined them it was not very obvious yet, the raids became slightly bloodier, but that was all. I rose quickly through the ranks, as was expected. It was only from 1979 onwards that all hell was finally unleashed. The situation became so out of hand that even his most trusted in the Inner Circle were afraid for their lives every time they stepped before Him, and yet, there was nothing any of those of us, who were still sane at that point, could possibly do but bow and obey without question. Until June of 1980."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Who would have thought that all our salvation would come in form of a prophecy spoken by the crackpot fraud Trelawney during an interview for the Divination position at a pub in Hogsmeade?"

Hermione stared at him blankly. Wait! What?

"One of the Dark Lord's informants overheard the first couple of lines, before he was discovered and thrown out.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'

Oh, what a glorious meeting it has been! I have sent my thanks to the heavens for the first time in years. Those of us, who were still following the old faith, knew that since the Fates themselves have intervened, it all would be over and soon. Severus, the sly bastard, has taken the opportunity for what it was and suggested to apply for the vacant Potions position, to supposedly keep an eye on Dumbledore and the goings on at Hogwarts. Needless to say, his suggestion was received favourably. And I knew without the slightest doubt that he would make his deal with the old goat before the night was out," he chuckled wholeheartedly.

She barely dared to breathe, lest she missed something.

"I too began making my preparations, but imagine my surprise when it turned out that it was a mudblood of all people, who has birthed the Child of Prophecy, and that the Dark Lord himself was a halfblood, and so is Dumbledore. About Severus' unfortunate origins I have always known and yet I had no qualms whatsoever naming him my son's godfather, because frankly speaking, he is probably the only friend I ever had," his smirk was almost wistful.

"My beliefs began to waver since about that time. I have wised up and am now fully aware that the muggleborn are just pawns on the board and not the root of all misfortune. However, appearances had to be upheld. Most of us have known all this time that the Dark Lord was not quite as dead as we might wish for. I was fully prepared to enter his service again to protect myself and my family. How could I have predicted what He would do for no other reason than out of spite?"

His countenance darkened visibly. "He has overstepped the line of what I was prepared to tolerate in the name of survival. He is no longer a Lord of mine. It is that simple. So, Ms. Granger, what is your verdict?" He raised his eyebrow taking another sip out of his cup.

Hermione put the prophecy aside to be examined at some later point concentrating on the other aspects of his story for now.

"Marrying me might bring you more perks yet than just improving your image with the common witch and wizard," she answered thoughtfully, her mind being ten steps ahead already.

She may not agree with many of the Dark policies, but their wish to keep the old wizarding culture and traditions alive, as well as many old magics from dying out could not be faulted. It was the way they were going about it, as well as the leader they chose to rally behind that she did not approve of. They might not have had another option at that time, however, times had changed, had they not? And she had already a better candidate and a more prudent course of action in mind. The self-proclaimed Dark Lord could as well kiss his basis of support goodbye.

"Indeed? How so?"

Her smirk was worthy of the best of them. "You shall see."

Both his eyebrows disappeared in his hairline and she had to suppress the urge to giggle in delight.

"Back to my original question though. What you told me still does not quite explain your eagerly wandering eyes and hands."

He grimaced again, apparently rather reluctant to speak about it.

"I have always had this... unnatural attraction towards witches of muggle descent," he was speaking with deliberate nonchalance, though his eyes were firmly focused on the cup in his hands. "I was careful to never let it show of course, though the temptation to give into it has been exceedingly difficult to resist at times. It was also the reason I did not protest when Narcissa has insisted on a fidelity clause in our contract. Without it I would have likely strayed more than once during the course of our marriage and surely caused scandal at some point."

Hermione bit her lip trying hard not to laugh at him. Though, she had to admit that as ridiculously delusional and repressed as it was, his behaviour was also honourable.

"Unnatural, hm? Well, considering the degree of your inbreeding I would say that this attraction of yours is the most natural thing in the world."

He looked up at her mildly intrigued.

"I would also say that you are not the only pureblood of old descent having said attraction by far. I would even dare to postulate that all purebloods of old descent who are of sound body and mind, which is by no means a given, have said attraction."

"You seem to be rather confident in that respect," the condescending amusement in his tone was telling her just what he thought of her theory. Hermione would not allow that to deter her though. The man may be close to her father's age, but she had a great many things to teach him nonetheless.

"My confidence is born out of knowledge. A knowledge that is common in the muggle world, but apparently less so in the wizarding one."

He did not even bother hiding his derision.

"Yes, wallow in your delusion of superiority all you like," she sneered down her nose at him, "it does not change the fact that muggles have a far better understanding of how things work and why than wizards do, even though they do not have the power to manipulate their surroundings the way we can. Magic is stronger, faster and more thorough, but it also makes people lazy, in both body and mind. Too content with the status quo to ask themselves questions about how they and the world around them work. It works, so why questioning it, isn't it so?" She scoffed. "It's only when it stops working, then they start groping around blindly for reasons and solutions, one more ridiculous than the other, because they simply lack the knowledge of cause and effect needed to draw the correct conclusions."

"And what according to you would be the cause for my unfortunate affliction then, Ms. Granger?"

She rolled her eyes at his carefully maintained facade of indulgence. Who was he trying to deceive? His curiosity was so thick in the air, she could almost taste it.

"Not according to me, according to the current state of scientific knowledge," she corrected him haughtily. "And I have already answered that. Your degree of inbreeding."

Hermione smirked enjoying his disgruntled expression, but decided to explain further without any prompting from him.

"By the end of the 19th century muggles have developed theories on the human evolution. I won't go into detail here, but if you are interested, I can supply you with the relevant literature. Those theories say that on the most basic level humans are animals and therefore driven by instincts. The instincts are safeguards of sorts build in by nature herself to ensure our survival as individuals and as a species."

He nodded once reassuring her that he was following.

"Sexual attraction sets in with procreation in mind and is therefore one of the instinct driven phenomena. In short, your own body knows what's good for it and points you towards the mates you would be able to produce the best possible offspring with."

The look on his face was decidedly sceptical and she could barely contain her snicker.

"You are asking yourself now why the muggleborn of all things I'm sure. The answer to that is rather simple, to bring fresh blood into your inbred and stagnating bloodline."

She poured herself more tea offering him some as well, which he accepted and began leisurely preparing it the way they each liked.

"Most witches and wizards are only now beginning to realise what muggles have known for centuries. Inbreeding is bad. Very, very bad. It causes physical and mental degeneration, all sorts of chronic ailments, and infertility. Is it so hard to imagine that it's also the reason for the degeneration of magical power and abilities? The increase in Squib births?" She raised her eyebrow at him. "Not for me, and you yourself have pointed out that the most powerful wizards of our time are halfbloods, which only supports that theory. If you are interested in more literature on the topic, I can supply you with that as well."

"I believe I would like to see that literature indeed, before I offer an opinion on those little theories of yours, Ms. Granger."

"I'll have the books for you sometime tomorrow," she saw him take a sip of his tea and could not resist her malicious streak. "And while we are on the subject, I want babies from you."

He spewed his mouthful of tea across the room, eyes bulging out in a most un-Malfoy like manner and it was all it took for her to dissolve in boundless mirth. If her life was about to go down the drain as of today, then at least on a funny note.

xxxoooxxx

Hermione had spent the night at the manor and took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron in London after breakfast. Malfoy had provided her with a nice summer gown and robe, so she no longer stood out in the crowd. The materials were much finer than what she was used to in casual attire, though she'd better start getting accustomed to it she supposed. The purpose of her visit to Diagon Alley today was to send a letter to Harry requesting a meeting and an appointment at the Garner & Briggs law firm. Malfoy was using Dodge E. & Dodge E. R. she knew and thus had to settle on the second best, because of the conflict of interests otherwise.

She still could barely wrap her head around the fact that she would be marrying Lucius Malfoy in about six months from now. She would not be able to return to Hogwarts because of it and would have to finish her education under private tutors. Oh, gods! She dreaded writing her withdrawal letter to Professor McGonagall, but it needed to be done today or tomorrow at the very latest. There were only five days left until the start of term and a new female fifth year prefect had to be chosen and notified in timely fashion.

She dreaded the media circus awaiting her as well. That was mainly the reason why she had accepted the invitation to move into Malfoy manor straight away. On that note, she had to remember to contact Rita Skeeter today as well, to secure her as an exclusive press contact for both her and Harry. Since they had quite a hefty piece of dirt on her now, she would be just about the only reporter in Britain they cloud trust to represent them.

The third thing she dreaded was the various people's attempts to rescue her from the 'evil Death Eater's' clutches, the Weasleys' in particular. That ship had sailed irrevocably though. Malfoy had stated his price and she had agreed to pay up. There was nothing to be done about it anymore, but to accept and make the best out of it.

Her parents would not be informed about the existence of a husband until she was at least twenty. That much she had decided straight away. Thank Merlin they were out of the country until October for now. She would have to talk to her soon to be intended how to best go about keeping them in the dark.

And as to her friends, Ron would cut her off immediately she knew, though considering their estrangement almost the entire last year it would be hardly a loss. Harry on the other hand she would have firmly on her side, come what may. For now, it would have to be enough.

She made a detour into Scribbulus to stock up on fine stationary. She would need a lot of it in the foreseeable future and using Malfoy's watermarked one would only pour fuel into the fire. When she came out Hedwig was already waiting for her to her surprise. The headquarters of Dumbledore's Order must be somewhere in the heart of London then. She would not have received an answer this quickly otherwise.

The secret message was hidden in a smiley at the end of the last sentence of the short note.

'Meet me at McDonald's in the Pentonville Road at two o'clock today.'

Oh, that suited her quite well actually. It was just down the road from King's Cross, if she remembered correctly. She would be able to take a train home from there too. Smiling to herself she wrote out a quick confirmation and sent Hedwig off, before making her way towards the Garner & Briggs offices. She was to meet Mr. Garner in ten minutes and it would not do to be late.


	5. Daring Games

**Disclaimer: **Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre.

* * *

**DARING GAMES**

Hermione reached the meeting point on time without any trouble. Her summer gown might have an unusual cut for muggles, but without the sleeveless outer robe it could pass for a sundress well enough. Besides, Harry himself was dressed not exactly after the requirements of the current muggle fashion. So, he should not be the one to point fingers.

She enveloped him in a hug as soon as he was within reach, unable to help herself.

"Gods, Harry, I have so many bad news, I don't even know where to start!"

"Whoa! Hallo to you too," he returned the hug and led her into the fast food restaurant. "Come, let's get settled first and then you can start at the beginning."

"Oh, yes, I'm starving! Are you wearing contacts now? Looks good."

And it did indeed. She was so glad to see that thick, horn-rimmed monstrosity gone. Not only was it doing him no favours in the looks department, it was also a liability in battle.

"Yeah, thanks," he smiled sheepishly queuing up to the next counter.

They got their orders and sat down in a booth in a corner. Harry discreetly cast a couple of spells to ensure privacy, to her undying envy. Though, she supposed that she would be able to do magic at Malfoy manor to her heart's content now.

They ate and she told him her story in detail finishing up with, "I have my withdrawal letter already written, but wanted to talk to you before sending it off, so that you are prepared for the backlash. And then there is this whole new can of worms with the prophecy. That's not exactly something to put in an owl either."

As she had expected, Harry took everything she told him in stride, expressing his indignation and sympathy in all the right places.

"I have already found out about the prophecy actually," he was wearing a smug smirk. "I even know its full wording."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "When? How?"

The smirk transformed into a shit-eating grin.

"Snape is rather chatty after he has come."

Hermione blinked. Did he just say what she thought he said?

"Again."

And it was Harry's turn to recount his story in detail. Far more detail than she ever wanted to know about her least favourite Professor, but most interesting nonetheless. Sweet Mother of Merlin, who would have thought? But the main question was still, "What are we going to do now?"

He sighed rubbing the back of his neck with an air of resignation.

"As far as I understand, the only way out of this war for me would be either over Voldemort's cold body or my own. What I have read in the Black family library so far told me that most prophecies are self-fulfilling and if left alone they just turn invalid, but since he has already set it in motion, the Fates will throw me into his way until it's fulfilled one way or another. I will have no choice but to fight for my life."

He smiled wryly. "Well, if I'll have to die then at least not a virgin, that much is for sure. You on the other hand will have to marry Malfoy and from what I understand, you are inclined to make it work, if he is willing to come towards you. It does not mean though that you have to involve yourself in the war. And if everything goes south, you'll be able to leave, with or without him, though probably with, since I doubt he would want to stay in that case."

"Don't patronise me, Harry, this is my war too. And even with a way out, it does not mean that I won't give my best to try and win first, for you and for every muggleborn out there, but first and foremost for myself. I won't be able to live with myself otherwise. I'm simply not the sort that stands by and you know it," she smiled wistfully. "The Hat knew what it was doing when it placed me in Gryffindor after all."

He pulled a plastic bag with an assortment of muggle paper blocks, pens and pencils out of his pocket and un-shrank it. "In any case, we need to plan."

She was very positively surprised. "You and planning?"

"Yes, I know, but there's a first time for everything, as they say," he grinned cockily placing it all on the table in front of them. "It's clear as day that I won't be facing him in a duel for quite some time, quite a long time, if I have any say in it. So, I rather like your idea about stealing his basis of support to get him isolated."

She opened the first best block and wrote it down as a heading. "You are aware that you would have to throw quite a few eggs at Dumbledore in both the public and the Wizengamot, aren't you?"

"Oh, really?" He asked feigning concern. "How unfortunate."

"Just wanted to make sure that you know not to bite off more than you can chew. Dumbledore has a lot of political and social clout. And he's a more experienced player by far."

To her surprise, it got him actually thinking. That was definitely a first, as far as she could remember. Maybe, this whole enterprise was not quite as hopeless as she feared it would be.

"He is a very powerful and influential man, but he also has one major weakness," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "namely, his rigid stance towards anything Dark. I have this strong suspicion that it might be something personal," he looked up at her, "this conviction that anything Dark equals evil I mean. Nothing I have read so far says anything of the sort. The books warn about dangers to one's health, both physical and mental, the possibility of addiction and some such, and the concept of sacrifice is not everyone's cup of tea either, but nowhere is it explicitly written that they affect one's moral outlook to such an extent that one becomes 'evil'," he made quotation gestures at the last word, sneering derisively. "And yet, this respected scholar has such a negative stance towards an entire branch of magic? Either he knows something that is not written in the books or he is simply projecting his personal opinions."

She nodded in agreement. "I was planning to ask Malfoy about that as well, since it has bugged me for a while. Why do we have Light, Dark and Neutral families? Are they born with an aptitude towards certain forms of magic or is it just a matter of familial tradition and personal preferences? I couldn't find anything explaining it properly in the Hogwarts library."

"And that exactly is my point, Hermione! We need to get the traditionalists, both Light and Dark, out of Voldemort's pocket and into our own. And to achieve that we must topple the stronghold of doctrines Dumbledore has been planting into people's minds for the last two or three generations. The best way to do so would be to verbally attack him in public. He always preaches about integration of the muggleborn, but there's no wizarding culture class at Hogwarts and the relevant literature has been moved into the restricted section of the library, I bet ever since he took over as Headmaster. And why? Because it's the conservative traditionalists on the Board of Governors, who also happen to be mostly from Dark families, that are proposing and pushing for it. When we expose his hypocrisy, it'll kill three birds with one stone. Weaken his position as an authority figure, promote the integration of the muggleborn in wizarding society and give the traditionalists finally their pound of meat."

She wrote it down. "Excellent! And since we are on the topic of Hogwarts, the list of his failings in his duties as Headmaster is quite long. The school's descent in academic standards is an open end bag to draw from." She smirked when an interesting idea popped up in her mind. "You know, my pending nuptials could be just the stepping stone that we need to get people talking. Once the attention is drawn, we would be able to direct it wherever we want."

"Wouldn't Malfoy have a say in it too?"

"You are talking as if I would care for his input," she rolled her eyes at him. "He wants positive public opinion of him and his family restored, and positive public opinion he will get. Anything else was not part of the deal, though I sincerely doubt he would try and put sticks in my wheels. He's too much of an attention whore for that."

Harry threw his head back laughing. "Like father, like son, eh?"

"Most certainly," she sniffed haughtily. "Now, I have an appointment with dear Rita tomorrow and will lay down the general direction of the articles she is to prepare beforehand. She'll probably request an interview with you at some point this week. The contract negotiations should not take more than a fortnight, as far as I can estimate. Afterwards, the engagement will be made public and she gets the ball rolling. You can take over from there."

They finished writing down their notes and got themselves a round of ice cream as a reward for the good work. Harry had time until six, before he had to go back to the Order headquarters and it was barely four o'clock right now. He had feigned fatigue since this morning and was allowed to retire for a nap in the afternoon, so they would not miss him until it was time for dinner.

"The next step to forward our plan should be definitely a memorable entrance on the political stage," Harry took up another block. "The autumn session of the Wizengamot will start on the sixteenth of September. As you have suggested, to get the support of the Dark faction behind me I would need to establish myself as someone who, despite being the beacon of the Light, has an open mind and ear for their most dire concerns. Any ideas?"

She considered the many options carefully, before deciding on the one striking her as most dire at the moment. It would be also the one to cause the most waves in all circles of society, not to mention to be able to find strong support in all three faction of the Wizengamot for a change. And of course, it concerned Harry personally as well, on more than one level.

"How about blood adoption? It has been outlawed in the late 19th century, if I remember correctly, and in my humble opinion it's one of the stupidest things ever done by the British Government and all others that have followed their example."

"Perfect! Controversial, but also dead sure to pass immediately," he grinned widely, though a moment later his enthusiasm diminished visibly and he gave her an uncertain glance. "But you do know where it would ultimately lead, don't you?"

She sighed heavily. Yes, she did. The children situation in magical families was dire indeed, with so many Squib births and completely barren couples, and there were only so many magical orphans in both the wizarding and the muggle world. So, yes, she could see it clearly before her inner eye; muggleborn children disappearing in broad daylight from under their parents' very noses, and the parents confounded or obliviated to cover up the unlawful obtainment of potential heirs.

On the other hand, the muggleborn did not have, and never had actually, many chances to truly prosper in the wizarding world. It was the reason why so many of them went back to the muggle one shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Those children would be blood adopted by witches and wizards and grow up in the wizarding world among their own kind. The adoption would change them genetically. They would show the characteristics of their adopted parent or parents and be accepted fully as members of the respective family. They would have a decent chance at a good life as full members of society and not as second class citizens they would be otherwise.

Her grimace was rather painful looking. "For the greater good. Isn't it what Dumbledore is always saying?"

For the next five minutes Harry laughed so hard that he was crying and banging his hand on the table. She did see why it was so funny of course, but could not bring herself to join in. As far as she was concerned, it was just sad, nothing more, nothing less.

After getting himself together again Harry apologised, she however just waved it away. Honestly, being friends with Ron for years all but rendered you immune against foot in the mouth situations.

They agreed upon doing a thorough research in the Black and Malfoy libraries respectively and meet up later to attempt a first draft of the new piece of legislation. Harry would need to compose a convincing selling pitch at some point too. But there was one last thing he apparently wanted clear instructions on, before they bid each other goodbye.

"What exactly do you want me to tell people when the shit hits the fan? The Weasleys in particular."

She gave it a moment of thought. "The half-truth is the best lie, as always. It's a marriage of convenience between parties of more or less eligible standing. The whys - just make something up. It won't matter what you say in the end, since the gossip and speculation will override everything anyway. The hows - he proposed to me, I have considered it and accepted. Plain and simple." She smiled slyly. "And as to the Weasleys, Ron in particular, feel free to defend my honour in any way you deem necessary. As grateful as I am for their friendliness and hospitality, they never have been my equals, neither socially nor intellectually, and therefore their opinions don't really matter to me. Don't tell them that though, if you would be so kind."

"Of course! I'm not a complete ogre, you know."

Though, by the twitching of his mouth and the mischievous glint in his eye she could tell that he must have had something along the lines in mind indeed. Gods, they never really grow up, do they? She snorted and shook her head in resignation.

With the promise to get together again soon, they went their separate ways.

xxxoooxxx

Dobby delivered Harry back to his bedroom at half past five. The repelling charm on his bed curtains had not been triggered to his relief. So far, so good. He decided to keep the blocks with his notes on his person at all times, since he had no safe place to put them away and did not want to leave them with the elf, only to have to call him every time he wanted them.

He changed his shirt for a tunic and ventured down to the kitchen for dinner, contemplating how to best handle the questions that would be coming his way tomorrow by lunchtime at the very latest. He could predict the various people's reactions fairly well. The teachers, minus Snape, would be concerned and somewhat disappointed; the Order members gossipy and self-righteous; the Weasley parents shocked and the Weasley children indignant; Ron betrayed, angry and the most verbal of them all.

He snorted. Honestly, knowing Hermione as he did, he sincerely doubted Ron could have ever had so much as a sliver of a chance with her. But pointing it out so blatantly might cost him whatever was left of their friendship. He needed to decide if he should break it off now once and for all or handle it more diplomatically. Ron might be of no use to him as a friend, but maintaining appearances on that front was keeping him under Dumbledore's radar. He was not quite sure if he could afford to draw scrutiny towards himself and his movements at this point of time.

On the other hand, his loyalty towards his one friend over the loyalty towards his other could be just the right sort of smoke screen to conceal his true motives. Especially, with Ron's behaviour towards him after his name had come out of the Goblet in mind. Besides, Ron was really starting to grate on his nerves, so he really did not believe that he would be able to hold it out with the red-head much longer.

"Have you slept well, dear?"

Mrs. Weasley had charmed some knives to chop vegetables into a vast salad bowl, while she was preparing the dressing.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. It was just what I needed."

He sat down next to Ron, who was grumbling under his breath about privileged lazy arses bowing out of helping with the cleaning. Yes, he definitely would not be able to hold out much longer. He had not expected just how short that time would turn out to be though.

They were barely done with the desserts when Professor McGonagall swept into the room and informed them that an Order meeting was to take place in an hour and that the youngsters were to take part this time. Wow, that was fast! She must have been somewhere in London then for the letter to reach her in such a short time. Hermione should have waited with sending it until tomorrow. Oh, well, inconvenient, but not that big of a deal, as far as he was concerned.

Over the next hour people began slowly trickling in. It was not a full meeting he noticed immediately, consisting only of those he had pegged as the 'Inner Circle'; the Weasleys, the Marauders, Snape, McGonagall, Moody, Shacklebolt, Tonks, Diggle, Doge, Vance, Podmore and Jones. Dumbledore had arrived last. Harry nearly rolled his eyes at the younger Weasleys around him all but vibrating in their seats when the room was secured and the meeting officially started. He himself assumed a somewhat disinterested slouch, while mentally preparing for battle.

"My friends, I have called this meeting to discuss a rather disconcerting piece of news Minerva and I have received mere hours ago," Dumbledore's mean was that of concern and gravity. "Hermione Granger, one of our brightest and most promising muggleborn students, and until recently the new female fifth year prefect, has sent in her letter of withdrawal on the grounds of a pending marriage to none other than Lucius Malfoy."

"WHAT?! What the bloody hell! You're joking, right?"

That was Ron predictably. Most promising, eh? Harry had to wonder in what respect. The rest of the gathering was murmuring more or less loudly among themselves.

"By your reaction, Ronald, I understand that you had no prior knowledge of this? It is as I have assumed then," he sighed heavily. "She must have been forced."

"Then you have assumed wrong," Harry had a hard time keeping his desire to sneer in check, but could not help the quip slipping past his lips. "Ronald here had no prior knowledge of this, because Hermione simply no longer considers him a trusted friend."

Very well, then. There was no going back now.

That got everyone's attention swiftly. Ron's jaw was barely hanging on, so he turned towards him with an expression of contempt.

"And don't give me that look! After the stunt you've pulled last year, did you honestly think that either of us would forgive you so easily? You'll have to work harder for that than just saying sorry, I assure you."

"Harry?"

Dumbledore's tone suggested that he'd better turn towards him and the topic at hand. Harry however turned to face McGonagall instead. He was not confident enough in his Occlumency yet to look the old man in the eyes safely.

"Hermione has been considering marriage for a while now and would have probably dropped out of school in favour of private education sometime during this year, or the next at the very latest, anyway." He let his gaze wander around in order to take in the various people's reactions. Most of them were visibly taken aback.

"Lord Malfoy was only one of many exceedingly eligible young men vying for her hand. There was also Viktor Krum, Gustav Rheingard, Charles Venreux, Gaius Deburg, Cassius Warrington, Blaise Zabini, Marcus McMillan, Nicolai Vernik and Ludovic Cielle, only to name a few."

The last four were not quite true. Zabini had been only flirting a bit after the Yule ball to test if he could get into her knickers; the other three he had added for the sake of a greater impact. Judged by the shocked faces all around, even Dumbledore's and Snape's, he was successful in that respect indeed. Ron's reaction surprised him the most though. Instead of exploding in a loud and vulgar manner, he went rather white in the face and quite timid. He looked almost as if he were honestly scared.

Getting a sudden uneasy feeling in his gut Harry narrowed his eyes. There were only so many things that could have made him afraid in the current context and if even one of them turned out to be true, so help him Merlin! And he already had an idea as to how to get to the bottom of it without anyone ever finding out. Dear Ronnie'd better pray that it was not quite that bad or they would never find his body.

Taking advantage of the Headmaster's state to dare and look at him, he continued spinning his tale. "I fully understand your reasons for concern, sir. Malfoy is... well... Malfoy," he flashed a sheepish half-grin before re-establishing a serious countenance. "And the fact that his wife was barely cold in her grave and he was already looking did not speak in his favour either. I have shared my concerns with Hermione of course, she however assured me that she has weighed up her options very carefully, before accepting him."

Dumbledore finally found his voice. "It seems that Ms. Granger is not quite as prudent a young woman as we all have thought her to be."

"Why ever not, sir?" Harry allowed himself a small smirk. "You are the one who is always campaigning for the integration of the muggleborn into wizarding society after all. And arranged marriages between eligible parties have always been an essential part of wizarding culture, the last time I looked."

A murmur of discontent went through the ranks at that. The Jones woman took it upon herself to correct him, "Only purebloods have arranged marriages and she is muggleborn."

"So, you are saying that only two purebloods are allowed to enter a marriage of convenience and a muggleborn and a pureblood are not?" He raised his eyebrow at her. "Forgive me my scepticism, Ms. Jones, but your statement makes no sense."

The woman blushed and began spluttering incoherently.

"I believe what Hestia wanted to convey was that to witches and wizards raised in the muggle world the concept of an arranged marriage must be offensive," Dumbledore came to her rescue.

To have a reason to move his eyes out of the danger zone, Harry leaned forward slightly to address the woman sitting across from him directly.

"As a muggle-raised wizard myself, madam, I must tell you that you are grievously misinformed. The wizarding world does not differ all that much from the muggle one on the social side of things. That means that only your average muggles marry for love, the muggles of the upper echelons prefer marriages of convenience as well. Thus, the concept of an arranged marriage may be a bit unusual for the muggleborn, considering the demagogic proportions, but it's certainly nothing they would take exception to."

He leaned back in his chair enjoying her wide-eyed expression. Honestly, it was almost too easy. "And seeing as Hermione is descended from muggle nobility, she would hardly have a problem with it."

Ron had recovered somewhat at that point. "What?! What do you mean by muggle nobility? I thought her parents are muggle Mediwizards or some such!"

"They are," Harry answered him impassively, "but her maternal grandparents are Sir Maximilian Archer and Lady Margret Archer."

He smirked at the dumbfounded expressions around the table, Ron's was dumber than most. To rub it in some more he added almost nonchalantly, "With a fortune and assets amounting to about 500 000 Galleons, it's really no wonder that Malfoy was so eager to secure her for himself."

The looks on their faces were priceless. Even Snape had difficulty hiding his astonishment.

Dumbledore was the first to recover. "Well, this clearly puts the matter into a different light. However, I still must express concerns about her safety." He turned slightly to face Snape. "Severus, has Lucius confined in you regarding his plans in that quarter?"

"This morning, yes," Snape answered tersely, "I assume that was when she has finally accepted his proposal. And as to the girl's safety, you do not need to fear. He has no intentions of harming her in any way. He would gain much by having her at his side after all, the money of course, but also the favourable public opinion, and last, but not least, a pretty, young thing to warm his bed."

The women in the room were immediately offended. The men wisely refrained from commenting. Ron was continuously changing shades between red, green and white. It was most entertaining.

The meeting continued in that vein for a good half an hour more, ending with the decision that nothing could be done, but they would keep their eyes open. Gods, Harry would be most happy to never attend one again.

After the guests had finally departed, being the drama queen that he was, Ron stomped off to stew in self-pity somewhere. Ginny just left without a word. Harry assumed that she would not have cared much, if not for the business with the cursed diary. The Marauders and the rest of the Weasleys were decidedly subdued, even the twins, and that was saying something. Harry left them to their thoughts and took himself to the library. He had far too many things on his to-do list to waste time on soothing stubbed toes.

xxxoooxxx

Harry was straddling Snape's hips with the man's cock deeply in him and experimenting with all sorts of rotations and bouncing movements, trying to decide which ones he liked most. After weeks of daily encounters he was no longer single-mindedly out for release and wanted to try out new things. Snape was as always most accommodating.

He arched backwards propping himself up on the man's knees and moaned in appreciation when he found the perfect angle. His hips were grabbed to steady him, while he was riding fast and hard, slamming himself down on the rigid member almost brutally. He was quite sure that he would feel that in the morning despite the lubricant, but could not care less with the intense pleasure stabbing through him at every thrust.

Snape tried to slow him down after a minute, only to be completely ignored, so it was no wonder that the man buckled and came prematurely, moaning and cursing under his breath. Harry just laughed at his disgruntlement despite the orgasm and continued to milk him with his inner muscles, until he began to soften.

"You blasted brat," Snape shoved him of himself and pinned him to the mattress. "Oh, you are going to pay for this."

Harry just continued to squirm and giggle, until he was silenced with a tongue in his mouth. The man finished the forceful kiss and grabbed his cock, fisting him quickly, dark eyes glinting with the promise of vengeance. It was only after he was brought to the brink of release and then mercilessly denied by fingers like steel clamping down on the base of his cock, when he realised that he was in trouble indeed.

Snape repeated the process no less than five times and no amount of begging and pleading would sway him in the least. When Harry was finally allowed to come he could only shudder and scream, inside his mind and for real, until it was finally over and he fell back into the pillows completely boneless, with black spots dancing in his vision.

"Oh god, remind me to never piss you off again," his voice sounded decidedly hoarse.

Snape just chuckled smugly in return, before casting the cleaning spells and gathering him into his arms to settle down for the night.

It was strange to think about returning to Hogwarts in less than four days' time with the knowledge that Hermione would not be returning with him. That she would enter the courtship rituals and be married soon. She would be barely sixteen at the time too. So young and bound for life to someone who she did not even like, much less love. It would not mean that she would be miserable of course, but still. The concept of love was a foreign one to him and pondering on it made him uneasy. He doubted he would ever want to marry some witch for the sake of procuring an heir and keeping up appearances. Besides, if he was successful in his current political ambitions, reproduction would no longer require the assistance of the other gender. And even with no orphans available, he could always pay a surrogate.

But to marry for love? What was love anyway? Happiness, contentment, respect, trust, care, joy, commitment, support, understanding, comfort, and the usual? He was feeling all that right here, right now, in Snape's arms. Was he in love? Somehow he doubted it. And yet, there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever that Snape was completely and utterly in love with him, even though he was unable to tell how he could be possibly so sure.

Would he ever be in love? The answer to that question rose from somewhere deep in his soul, was received with sadness and accepted as the bitter truth it was. The Dark Lord had marked him as his equal and that was not limited to power alone. Snape's love would have to be enough for them both.

"Would you marry me?"

There was a long moment of absolute silence. Neither of them was even breathing.

"What?!"

"You heard me."

Another moment.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Harry smiled into the night.

"Sanity is overrated."

The arms around him tightened slightly.

"Do not play with me, Harry," the man growled and yet, it was unmistakably a plea.

And with that one sentence Snape laid his heart bare for him to do with it as he pleased. To shatter at his feet or to keep safe forever. Harry nearly smacked his lips savouring his first taste of absolute power. Oh, yes, the Dark Lord had chosen his equal well.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Yes or no?"

The moments stretched themselves between them.

"Yes."

It was uttered so quietly that he barely managed to catch it.

"Dobby!"

The elf popped into existence next to the bed and Snape nearly jumped out of his skin, before whipping out his wand and pointing it at the creature. Harry ignored that, removed his signet ring and gave it to the elf.

"Go to Gringotts and fetch me a pair of Potter family engagement bracelets."

The elf squeaked in excitement and popped out immediately.

Snape lighted the candles again. His dark eyes were widened in shock.

"You do not want a prenuptial agreement?" The man barely managed not to stutter.

"Whatever for? You don't have any assets to be declared and mine are protected by blood; concerning money, I trust you to be responsible in your expenditure; concerning faithfulness, cheat on me and I'll have the slut killed in front of you, and of course you may have the same courtesy. The heir question can be decided upon later."

It might sound hard, even to his own ears, and yet he knew without doubt that he meant it. He was not the sharing type, nor a very forgiving one. Neither was Snape.

The man sat there as if cast in stone. Harry smirked raising an eyebrow.

"Second thoughts?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "No, Potter, not yet. Though, I have an inkling that I might want to reconsider soon."

Harry giggled at that. Even if this turned out to be a huge mistake, life with Snape would never be boring, that much was for sure.

Dobby arrived with his ring and a jewellery case, handing them over, while grinning from ear to ear.

"Congratulations, Masters!" He bowed to the ground and disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry put his signet ring back on and opened the case. Inside was a pair of finely inlaid golden bracelets. Ivy vines with tiny rubies at the base of each leaf. He took one out and presented the other to Snape. The exchange of promise jewellery would mark the beginning of the courtship rituals.

"Courting couples are not allowed at Hogwarts," the man's hands shook lightly when he clasped the bracelet around the wrist of Harry's left arm.

"No one needs to know," Harry returned the gesture with steadier hands than those of his intended.

Calling their magic up to the surface they sealed their fate with a kiss.

xxxoooxxx

"From what Hermione told me, Malfoy seemed rather eager at the prospect of getting some soon."

They were having their usual morning pillow talk.

"I can well imagine that. He has not had any in fifteen years."

"You can't be serious!"

"Unfortunately for him, I am. Narcissa was just as much of an insane bitch as her dear sister Bella. She was also chronically frigid. He has not known that though when he has agreed to a fidelity clause in their contract."

Harry threw his head back howling in laughter.

"Now, now, it is bad manners to laugh at someone's misfortune," though the unmistakable smirk in his tone was betraying him.

"Oh, gods, wait until I tell Hermione! She might take him to the closest comfortable surface out of the kindness of her heart, if for no other reason."

"Please, do so quickly. Lucius will be most grateful."

Harry howled in laughter again.

"Now, to be serious. If he was happy to finally be rid of his wife, why has he declared himself publicly against the Dark Lord then?"

"Because of Draco."

Harry blinked. He had not read anything about the younger Malfoy's involvement in what had happened anywhere.

Snape sighed heavily. "This does not leave this room, is that understood?"

"Yes," Harry had a feeling that he would not like what he was about to hear.

"Lucius was away on business when the Dark Lord in company of several Death Eaters has visited the manor. Narcissa has let them in of course. She was informed that the reason for said visit was to punish Lucius for his lack of faith in his Lord. Being the eager to serve bitch that she was, she pointed out that Draco was Lucius' pride and joy, called the boy down to the drawing room and handed him over."

Harry listened with rising horror. His mother? His own mother had done that to him?

"After a couple of rounds of Cruciatus, which Narcissa has got an equal share of to her surprise no doubt, the Dark Lord and his followers grew bored and departed, taking Narcissa with them and leaving Greyback behind with Draco."

"Oh, god."

"By your reaction I assume that you are aware of what that beast does to the boys before biting them. Fortunately, Lucius arrived at home mere five minutes after the Dark Lord departure and managed to prevent the worst, both the bite and the penetration. He killed Greyback and adjusted the wards on all Malfoy properties to let only those of Malfoy blood through. Then, he applied the circle of containment runes I have shared with him to his own Mark and declared himself his own man. Draco has recovered from the ordeal well enough, though as you can imagine, no one walks away from that unscathed."

Harry lay there reflecting quietly for several long moments. The Malfoys had been his adversaries ever since he had stepped into the wizarding world for the first time. Their arrogant and snobbish public persona had always rubbed him the wrong way. They were Dark wizards, which according to Ron meant evil of course, and his schoolboy rivalry with Draco and the placing of a class five Dark artefact in an innocent child's hands by his father had all but confirmed it to him. And yet, apparently they too had suffered, and not all of it had been of their own doing. They too were human and cable of love and loyalty, and sacrifice to protect their own. And surely, as far as all Dark families went, they must be hardly an exception.

"Is one born a Light or a Dark wizard?"

Snape seemed surprised by his question, though Harry could not see his face to be able to tell. It was probably a projection of his aura.

"To a point. Every magical being is capable of wielding all forms of magic. Some witches and wizards have a natural aptitude towards certain skills and magics though. Those people usually work in the same or similar fields and the chances to form attachments, marry and produce offspring with the same characteristics are great. Over millennia, entire families with similar aptitudes, traditions and inclinations intermarried, keeping mostly to themselves. Thus, the divide in all circles of wizarding society."

Harry let it sink in for a moment or two.

"Why does Dumbledore detest anything Dark so much?"

"That is something only he could answer I am afraid."

They lay there for a while longer. Each lost in their own thoughts.

"Why do you want to marry me? And spare me the L-word. We both know that you do not."

"I do not, because I can't. And not because I don't want to, but because I'm incapable of it. Despite my handicap, I still want to marry for love and you love me. That's why I have asked you."

Snape laughed bitterly. "And you proposed to _me_? A lot of people love you, Potter."

"Be quiet, you. No one loves me the way you do, and we both know it."

Harry smirked at the decidedly not commenting silence.

xxxxoooxxx

Unwilling to share a room with his former best friend without knowing, Harry had borrowed a vial of Veritaserum and its antidote from Snape to be able to do a thorough interrogation that evening. Ron had been moping around all day, making a show of not talking to him, because he was supporting Hermione's decision. But they were sharing a room and there was no avoiding Harry in there.

Harry hit him with a stunner while his back was turned, bound him to a chair and secured the room painstakingly, before reviving him and administering the three drops necessary. The red-head's eyes glazed over immediately.

"Why have you blanched during the Order meeting when you learned about Hermione's marriage plans?"

"I was afraid that she will find out about the potion I've put into the biscuits my mum has sent her when she and Ginny were backing last."

Harry's grip on his wand tightened significantly.

"What kind of potion and why have you done it?"

"A lust potion that gains strength over time and needs to be literally fucked out of her system. Me and Seamus and Dean have made a bet that I would get into her knickers before the summer was out. There are 30 Galleons in the pot. I thought that it would be easy, that she would come over here when she receives an invitation and get horny enough after a week or two to spread her legs for me, but she refused. And now she has regular contact with Malfoy and I bet she has already thrown herself at him. But because it's Malfoy she will surely notice that something is not right and get herself tested and find out about the potion. And if she has still some biscuits left, she would be able to trace that back to me.

Now that she's his betrothed, Malfoy could bring charges against me, challenge me to a wizard's duel even. And mum and dad are going to skin me alive when they find out."

Harry took several deep breaths and resisted the urge to skin him alive himself. No, he had an urgent letter to write and besides, Hermione should be the one to decide on his punishment, not him.

He took a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill sitting down at the table next to the window.

"What's the name of the potion and where did you get it?"

"Bengie's Delight. I got it from Pucey for 4 Galleons. It's an open secret that his father has all but drunk their family fortune away, so he's making all sorts of potions for money."

Harry paused in his writing for a moment. Now, that was a most interesting piece of information. Was Snape aware? Stupid question. Knowing him, he was probably even letting potions ingredients lie around the boy unwatched on purpose.

He finished his letter and charmed it for secrecy, before sending it off with Hedwig. Then, he administered the antidote. Ron was making all sorts of excuses for his behaviour and protests against his tied up position, Harry however just ignored him, breathing in and out and concentrating on the events following the stunning in his mind, as Snape had taught him.

"Obliviate!"

Ron's eyes glazed over again. Continuing to maintain the connection, Harry called up the image of Ron going to bed like he did every night, before severing it and removing the bindings. The red-head rose and climbed into bed like a robot, before turning over and falling asleep in an instant.

Harry watched him in morbid fascination. Well, it worked. He had not been sure if he should attempt it unsupervised, since he had never done it before. But then had decided that even if Ron noticed anything, he would probably just shrug it off, it was Ron after all.

He applied silencing charms on his feet and disappeared under his invisibility cloak, before making his way to the third floor.

xxxoooxxx

"Did you know that one of your snakes has set up a potions shop in an unused dungeon corridor?"

"Mr. Pucey, yes, an exceedingly talented young man. If he continues showing such an excellent promise, I might offer him an apprenticeship."


	6. Common Ground

**Disclaimer: **Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre.

* * *

**COMMON GROUND**

She was going to murder that ginger arsehole in the most painful way possible! She had noticed an unnatural increase in libido of course and was slowly beginning to worry and ask herself questions when Harry's letter arrived, explaining everything in full. Fucking bastard! Her sweet tooth was an open secret and he had used it against her. She had eaten those biscuits in guilty pleasure behind closed doors of her room, so that her dentist parents would not know. Bengie's Delight had a syrupy taste and was therefore impossible to detect in sweets. He would regret the day he was born when she was trough with him! That much she promised herself. It did not solve her current problem though.

Hermione had held out for two more weeks since that letter's arrival, but simply could no longer. The ache in her core was bordering on torturous and only her sense of dignity was preventing her from clenching and grinding her thighs together. Throwing the last remnants of her pride out of the window she swallowed a contraceptive potion and called for the house-elf Lucius (they were on the first name basis now) had designated to be her lady's maid.

"Leni, can you tell me where Lucius is right now?"

She snipped her fingers. "Master is in his study, Mistress."

"Thank you, that would be all."

The elf beamed and squeaked happily before popping out. Honestly, she and Lucius would have words before too long on his piss-poor treatment of the house-elves. Common courtesy towards servants should not be considered a precious gift in a house she was going to be the Lady of.

She went downstairs and knocked on his door, entering when he called her inside. He was sitting behind his desk and reading through some papers by the looks of it.

"Lucius, are you very busy at the moment?" She went over, rounded the imposing writing surface and leaned her hip slightly against it, right next to his high-back chair.

"Not particularly, no," he raised his eyebrow at her and put the scroll aside.

"Good," her smile turned decidedly predatory, startling him visibly, before she planted herself in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and started kissing him. He sat there frozen in shock for several moments, but then wrapped his arms around her and responded in kind, getting more and more ardent with every passing minute.

Even in her lust clouded state, she was rather surprised that he seemed not to care in the least for the reasons of her behaviour. He just lifted her of his lap and onto the desk, rose out of his chair and pushed it backwards out of the way, before unbuttoning his trousers, getting his cock out and fisting it quickly to hardness.

From what she could see, while she was wriggling out of her court shoes and underwear, he seemed to be rather impressively endowed. Viktor had been by no means small, but Lucius was a different category altogether. She was doubly glad now that she had allowed Viktor to take care of her virginity. To have to take _that_ as a virgin would have meant a world of pain.

They continued caressing and kissing heatedly, thus she was rather startled when he plunged two fingers into her unceremoniously, probably to test if she was ready for him. Well, she certainly was. She had been for days, if she was honest with herself. Pleased with what he had found he began pushing his cock into her, obviously surprised that he had to work himself in. Hermione nearly snorted and had to bite her lip to hide her discomfort. Honestly, with the size of him any pussy would be too tight at first. Gods, she was going be sore! She just knew it. Her only consolation was that with the size of him it also meant multiple orgasms were all but guaranteed.

She was glad to have been proven right on the later account. He fucked her fast and hard and though it was slightly painful, he still managed to bring her off twice before he spilled himself all but roaring in otherworldly delight. It was most fascinating to witness. Viktor certainly had not been quite that vocal.

He pulled out of her and collapsed in an undignified heap in the chair behind him, panting hard. With his normally meticulously arranged clothes and hair in wild disarray and his cock hanging limply between his spread legs, he made such a ridiculous picture that she could not help guffawing until she cried.

Swimming in post-coital bliss he seemed to not give a flying fuck that she was laughing at him.

"What are you giggling at now, wench?" He smiled lopsidedly.

She gulped several mouthfuls of air to get herself together again. "Oh, gods, Lucius, I wish I had a camera with me! _That_," she gestured in his general direction, "is too hilarious to be true!"

With a reluctant groan he straightened somewhat and cast the cleaning and freshening charms, before he tucked himself back into his pants and did them up. Then, he ran a hand through his hair, spelling it back into place for good measure. She followed his example and made herself presentable again as well, before sliding slowly off his desk to test if her legs would carry her. They did fortunately, even though the sting of her tender inner muscles was making the prospect of walking unpleasant. She made sure not to let it show though. She had sacrificed enough dignity as it was, throwing herself at him like that. The bit of soreness was nothing that could not be taken care of with a couple of spells in the privacy of her bathroom.

She slipped her panties and shoes back on and gave him a thorough thank you kiss, before taking her leave. It seemed only appropriate after all.

"Feel free to impose on me again whenever you wish, my dear," he quipped when she was about to close the door.

She rolled her eyes at him, not deigning an answer to that, but her smile was betraying her. She just might.

xxxoooxx

She was sitting curled up on a cushy chaise longue in the library and finishing the last touches on the blood adoption legislation she and Harry had stomped out of the ground in the past three weeks. The 16th of September was the day after tomorrow and Harry would send Dobby for the finished draft this evening. They had met up several times at Hogsmeade under disguise to work on it and his presentation speech together. And though they were cutting it close, she had to admit that both turned out to be most impressive.

To her pleasant surprise, Harry had invested himself into the project quite extensively. She was used to being the one who was carrying almost the entirety of the workload usually. Not this time though. On the other hand, it was not really surprising, seeing as he had decided to marry a man. He had every motivation to ensure that it would go through successfully.

His out of the blue engagement had taken her aback at first she had to admit. Unlike her, he certainly had no reason to marry this young, and his first and only lover to boot. His explanation had burst the last bubble of innocence she still had left at that point, showing her the reality of things clearer than ever before.

He had told her that as the things stood now, the chances of his survival were rather slim. That as the Lord of the House Potter he had an obligation towards his ancestors to secure the continuation and prosperity of his name. That to accomplish that he had to secure himself an honourable spouse as soon as possible and produce an heir or risk the extinction of his bloodline. That he had chosen Severus Snape for a variety of reasons - because he wished a marriage for love; because he trusted Snape to be strong enough to survive what was to come and raise their child to be an equally strong and accomplished individual; and because he wanted to live and enjoy his life in full before he had to go, if he indeed had to go soon. To say that she had been shocked would be an understatement.

She sighed casting a drying charm on the last sheet of parchment, before tucking it into its right place in the folder. She sent it to her room with a flick of her wand and the books she had used to their places on the shelves. Thinking about what ifs would only make her depressive, thus she consciously did not.

Her pending nuptials had been announced to the public at large mere three days ago and the waves were high, though in the morning of the 17th it would be all but old news she supposed. Or so she hoped. Her 'fan mail' was not exactly flattering, from both the purebloods and the muggleborn alike. The interview Harry had given to the Prophet had calmed the worst of it down though and Rita was working her magic and spinning the whole in just the right direction to be used later.

The progress on her relationship front was satisfactory as well. Two days had passed since the romp on Lucius' desk and the potion was out of her system now. It had surprised her that she had liked it more than her previous encounters with Viktor, despite the discomfort. Apparently, she was one of those women who liked their men big and the sex rougher. Who would have thought? It was a good sign of course, because it meant that she and Lucius were sexually compatible and a healthy sexual life was one of the foundation stones for a happy marriage, or so all the women's magazines were always proclaiming. Thinking about it logically she could agree this one time.

The next step would be establishing a healthy sexual life between them of course, since at the moment it was just about the only ground they could meet on as equals.

Speaking of the devil. Lucius entered the library and went over to one of the shelves to her right in search of some book on ancient law. He too was readying himself for the upcoming Wizengamot session by the looks of it. Taking the opportunity for what it was, she opened a random book pretending to read and pushed the hem of her skirt up, exposing her long, creamy leg. A noob like Ron would have stood there drooling all day no doubt. Lucius however was a man of the world and as such he would recognise an invitation when he saw one.

Not a minute later, the chase lounge dipped next to her.

"Hermione, my dear, are you very busy at the moment?"

"Not particularly, no," she smirked putting her book aside.

xxxoooxxx

Harry took a deep breath to calm his nerves down. He was adjusting his official robes in the full length mirror he had charmed onto one of the walls of his dormitory. The Potter House colours were red and gold, he had added black to them though. A black high-collared tunic, pants and knee-high boots, with a red, sleeveless over-robe, fastened with a golden belt. Golden embroidery ran through the sleeves and hems of both the red and the black fabric, with his House crest depicted over his heart. The assembly was not exactly traditional, but would serve its purpose well, sending just the right signals to just the right people.

The 16th of September was a Tuesday. He was allowed to forgo his classes in favour of his duties as the Head of his House though. He would travel to the Ministry together with the Headmaster through the Floo in his office at half past eight, to be on time for the opening session of the season. He did not like the prospect of arriving together with the old man, but reasoned that any misconceptions born from that would be corrected within hours after the fact at most.

He took another deep breath and went down, heading for breakfast. He ignored the stares and whispers of his fellow Gryffindors and other students he passed on the way to the Great Hall. To his surprise, he found that he was not the only one dolled up in there. Theodore Nott was sitting in black and deep purple at the Slytherin table. Harry blinked at that, but then remembered that Nott Sr. had somehow managed to commit suicide in his holding cell at the Ministry before he could be interrogated. Nott Jr. was now in the very same position as he – the last living member of his House.

He sat down next to Neville as he was wont now. They were partnering in all the classes they had in common and even spending time together afterwards. Ron was still not talking to him, and Harry could not have cared less. Neville might not be the greatest of conversationalists, but his quiet demeanour had substance behind it, Ron's boisterous one certainly could not offer.

"Black, Harry?" Neville was eyeing his attire curiously.

"Yeah, why ever not?" He tried and failed an innocent expression.

Neville just shrugged and continued buttering his toast, though the small smile on his lips was betraying his amusement. Only Dark or Neutral families had black in their House colours and the Potters had been decidedly Light as long as anyone could remember. And yet, Harry had to wonder. His Parseltongue could have hardly come from his mother and was definitely a Dark ability. Dumbledore's half-arsed explanations about Voldemort transferring some of his powers onto him seemed rather absurd now that he had a bit more understanding of magical theory. He really should invest some time into reading his family journals and grimoire, should being the operative word here, but simply could not at the moment with everything else on his plate.

He and Nott left the Hall about the same time and ventured towards the Headmaster's office in silence. Harry caught him throwing calculating glances his way from time to time and had to suppress his smirk. He was wondering what Harry was playing at no doubt. Oh, boy, if he only knew what was in store for him today!

Dumbledore's reaction was just a long, unreadable look, before he opened the Floo connection for them to go through. Harry stumbled on the other end, but managed to stay on his feet this time. He answered Nott's smirk with a glare, before casting the grooming charms, while they waited for the Headmaster to appear.

The Ministry Atrium was bustling with activity, seeing as it was the time of day when most of its employees arrived for work. Harry and Nott followed Dumbledore's plum-coloured Chief Warlock robes through the sea of bodies to the security desk and registered their wands, before proceeding to the lifts. On level two they stepped off and went down the hall, past the Auror Headquarters and the Administration Services, towards the set of huge, ornately carved double doors. Behind them was the vast, amphitheatre-like meeting chamber of the Wizengamot.

It was ten to nine o'clock and most of the members were already there sitting in the rows of benches or standing around in small groups, talking quietly. Their arrival did not go unnoticed. Some people were greeting the Chief Warlock, while others were sizing up their newest additions more or less covertly. Nott went over to the Dark faction immediately. Harry took a moment to orientate himself before climbing the steps to the Neutral faction, to many people's surprise. He placed himself roughly in the middle to have a good view on the entire room, though he would not stay there for long, since he had a change in legislation to propose. After the session was opened, those who had propositions to bring forth would leave their seats and place themselves on the other side of the room behind the lectern, facing their peers.

The gathering began to slowly settle down around him. His neighbours were eying him with barely concealed glee. No doubt, a lot of gold would change hands tonight, with so many bets lost. The Light faction's glances were either sad or confused, the Dark faction's calculating. Harry had a hard time keeping his face straight.

When an invisible clock chimed nine the double doors of the chamber closed with a soft thud and Dumbledore rose from his seat and issued the traditional greeting and session opening words, before inviting the honourable members to bring forth their propositions to be incorporated into the autumn program list. About two dozen people rose and relocated to the other side of the chamber. His own migration caused some raised eyebrows and murmuring all around, which he ignored keeping his face impassive. The presentations were held in order of seniority. That meant he would be the last one to speak.

Three hours later, only one other Lord was in front of him. All propositions so far were just additions or slight alterations to clauses of already existing laws to be voted aye or nay for them to go to debate or be discarded. No wonder that the country was barely making any progress on the socio-political front. He had to hide his smirk away. They would not know what hit them!

When it was finally his turn, a ripple seemed to go through the rows when the members previously slouching straightened in anticipation. All of them seemed rather interested in what he had to say and Harry was only too happy to deliver.

"Valued members, I stand before you today as the last of my House," he let his gaze wander around slowly to keep an eye on the people's reactions, "It is a sad fact to acknowledge though that I am hardly an exception. My current situation could very well be the future of many a House represented here today." He showed them a humourless smile, "If they are in luck that is."

He could plainly see that they were hooked. So far, so good.

"One could rightfully fault the decades of violent conflict for that, but the fault for the lack of remedy to it lies with us alone, or rather with the ones that came before us and the mistakes they have made. In spring 1894 the Wizengamot voted blood adoption out of the British Family Law, proclaiming it illegal."

Oh, that got them hot and bothered right quick!

"It was done on the grounds of said practices being recognised as evil. Strangely enough, there is no argumentation written down anywhere, as to how exactly that distinction has been made. No precursory study, no scientific publications, no incidents listed as an example. Nothing!" He pursed his lips wryly, "Which leads me to the conclusion that it was proclaimed evil, because of _blood_ included in the name and the ritual procedure."

There were some suspiciously sounding coughs from the Dark and Neutral sections. Harry suppressed the urge to smirk, putting on a solemn mean instead.

"As funny as the stupidity of our ancestors may be, the consequences resulting from said stupidity are anything but a laughing matter."

Their attention was his to command as he pleased. It was a strangely elating feeling he could not help but notice.

"Forgive me my youthful naiveté, but I do not see anything evil in childless witches' and wizards' wish to have offspring that they could indisputably call their own; offspring that would be recognised by their family magic and able to inherit not just the money, but the entire estate; offspring that would carry on not just their family traditions, but also their family magical abilities and skills."

The silence was absolute. That must have struck a nerve or two for sure. He raised his voice slightly to make a greater impact.

"On the other hand, I see every evil in the world in homosexual sons and daughters being pressured into marriage with partners they are not sexually compatible with, for no other reason than that of reproduction at any cost!"

He saw Minister Bones flinch visibly as if slapped and remembered suddenly that he had heard rumours about Susan Bones, her niece and the only other living member of the Bones family, being lesbian. Well, that would be one Light vote firmly in his pocket, not to mention the support of the Ministry coming with it.

"Evil in my eyes is young girls barely out of Hogwarts sought after in marriage for no other value than that of their purses and wombs! Evil is young women pressured to forgo higher education in favour of fulfilling their duty and contractual obligations to bear an heir as soon as possible. So many of them die in childbirth or wither slowly away when they find themselves incapable, for one reason or another! So much potential lost!"

He took a breath to calm himself down somewhat. It would not do to get carried away.

"Evil is the heads of the family seeking to procure children out of wedlock driven by sheer desperation and the society of amorality, broken promises and dirty little secrets that is born out of it."

Some people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Probably, because he had dared to voice an open secret so blatantly.

"And let us not forget the unfortunate souls that have failed, despite their best efforts, and whose bloodlines and family traits are now lost to our society forever. The Enchanters of Witchwood, the Spellcrafters of Lecombe, the Wardsmasters of Horner, just to name a few."

He picked up steam again.

"My fellow Ladies and Lords, will history write our names on that list soon as well? As the Heads of our respective Houses it is our obligation to ensure their continuation! As parents it is our natural heart's desire to secure our children's wellbeing and happiness! And as the trusted protectors of these lands it is our duty to provide a future worth looking forward to for the generations to come! Thus, I must implore you to take action now, as long as we still can!"

He took another breath.

"I hereby propose the re-evaluation of the old blood adoption legislation with the objective of its readmission into the British Family Law."

He met Dumbledore's hard stare, but did not flinch away from it.

"Votes, please," the man sounded, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

The Dark faction raised their wands as one, which he had anticipated. From the Neutral he got well over eighty percent, which was pleasantly surprising, he had expected somewhat over sixty. The Light one nearly took his breath away though. About two thirds! Two thirds had raised their wands! Holy shit! The legislation was as good as passed!

Closing his eyes for a moment as if in pain, the Chief Warlock proclaimed the proposal to be accepted.

Allowing himself a content smile Harry took the shrunken file out of his pocket and returned it to its original size, before placing it into a carved box next to the lectern. The draft copied and distributed itself automatically. He returned the file to his pocket, while Dumbledore closed and adjourned the session and took one last look around.

Many members were clutching his file, as if it were a lifeline and whispering excitedly with their neighbours. The members of the Dark faction were leaving the chamber in small groups, not talking to each other or anyone else for that matter, with his file nowhere in sight. Though, Harry had a good inkling that they all were heading for the same destination (probably someone's manor) right now, despite the appearances. He smirked gleefully inside and smiled pleasantly at the group of witches and wizards all but pouncing on him to pelt him with questions. It was almost too easy.

xxxoooxxx

"Do you have any idea as to what exactly you have done?"

Back in Dumbledore's office the old man did finally confront him. Nott had opted to leave with one of the Dark groups and return to Hogwarts later on his own.

"Yes," Harry turned to face him, "something you should have done half a century ago, but didn't for whatever reason. And we all, the Light and the Dark, have paid for it in blood."

Dumbledore held his gaze for a long moment, before averting his angry eyes towards the window. His hand curled into a fist in his lap.

"The price was too high," he turned back giving him a hard look, "still is too high."

"For you maybe, not for me. I have little to lose and everything to win."

The man's blue eyes had the quality of glass shards, trying to pierce his very soul. But then, he just sighed and waved him away.

"I wish you luck, boy. You certainly will need it."

Harry snorted and turned to leave. "I'll need more than just luck, but I'm going to take whatever you are willing to offer."

He rode the spiral staircase down smiling slightly to himself. That did not make them friends, far from it actually, but at least now they were on the same page.

xxxoooxxx

Three days after the news hit the papers Harry was ready to admit that he had had not the slightest idea what he would get himself into when he and Hermione were planning their little revolution, sitting in that brightly painted booth. His motivation had been largely selfish. Personal benefits aside, the ultimate goal had been to get the support of the old Dark and Neutral pureblood families away from Voldemort and towards himself. Neither of them could have possibly anticipated just how deeply rooted the problems pertaining their chosen issue truly were and consequently, just how extensive the impact of Harry's proposed legislation would turn out to be.

It began with Susan Bones peppering his face with kisses in the middle of the Charms corridor and proclaiming him her personal hero, because her aunt had stopped all marriage contract negotiations, until further notice. Then, he got lost when heading for Snape's quarters one night and walked in on Draco Malfoy pressed face first into the wall with Theodore Nott's cock lodged up his arse in an out of the way corridor, moaning that if the blood adoption legislation passes, his father would give his consent for them to marry when they were out of Hogwarts. The several hundred owls carrying thank you and we love you letters, circling him at breakfast every morning were almost not worth mentioning, as far as the shock factor went.

As the things stood now, the draft had not even gone to debate yet and he was already unofficially proclaimed the saviour of the wizarding world, the champion of the feminist and homosexual movements, the paragon of virtue and integrity and the knight in shining armour to go-to.

Snape had laughed his arse off, as in Snape had actually laughed his arse off reading the articles from the latest Witch Weekly he had confiscated to him. It had been a rather disturbing experience to make. He doubted that he would ever recover from it.

It was Saturday morning and they had their now rare and much missed lie in.

"Your Slytherins are giving me strange looks."

"You gave them a precious gift, Potter, more precious than you could possibly know. They are asking themselves what you would want in return."

Harry smirked. Snape had been asked to fish for information no doubt.

"They are to let go of the fanatic blood purism and discrimination, not only against the muggleborn, but also half-breeds and creatures in general, and of course turn their backs on the Dark Lord. Tell them that if they do that, I will give them the freedom of faith before Yule and the first rites before Beltane, not to mention fundamental educational reforms here at Hogwarts."

"You are planning on doing it independent from their acquiescence."

"Yes, but don't tell them _that_."

Snape sighed tightening his arms around him.

"You have no idea what power you are holding in your hands. What you could ask of them and it would be given to you without second thought."

"I've already told you that I have no desire to rule the world, Snape. They have nothing that I could possibly want."

The man's lips curled against his shoulder. "Continue in that vein and they might crown you their emperor, whether you want it or not."

A small coil of fear tightened itself in his gut. Jokes aside, it was a rather real possibility. They had made Merlin their god after all, and Harry doubted they had asked for his opinion before doing that, to crown an emperor against his will would be but a child's play in comparison.

"They won't get a chance. I'm going to skip town before they get their hands on me."

Snape just chuckled throatily in return. Yeah, Merlin had probably said the same.

xxxoooxxx

Monday morning downed fresh and brightly and the eyes of the world were resting on the Wizengamot meeting and Harry standing in front of it again.

"The draft presented to you six days ago consists of three major parts. The first contains paragraphs and clauses pertaining to magical orphans, half-orphans and non-orphans who are wards of the British state. Since there are no homes for them in the wizarding world, they are either residing in muggle orphanages or are just living on the streets, both the wizarding and muggle."

Quite a few members shifted in embarrassment, not least because there were many reporters present today, national and international. It was however a truth that could not be denied and their only consolation was that it was the case with magical governments everywhere, not just Britain.

"I suggest that all of these orphans are brought into the wizarding world and introduced to their heritage, before they are given free for adoption. To that end, I suggest an instalment of a Ministry run institution to serve as a temporary home for them and teams of wizards specifically trained in muggle official procedures to regularly scour muggle streets and orphanages for magical children. The magical streets are also to be scoured, though that duty could be carried out by members of the Law Enforcement. Also, seeing as the ministry funds are currently directed towards the war, I suggest an instalment of an extra fund for private individuals to donate to. I myself am ready to donate 30 000 Galleons to the purpose of purchasing a property and all furnishings necessary, and I can only encourage my fellow Ladies and Lords to follow my example."

There were many murmurings and nods of agreement. This would also serve the purpose of diminishing the risk of discovery of their world by muggles. He could plainly see in the faces of the members of the Dark faction at least that they were well aware of that.

"I am convinced that there are more magical children living that way than anyone could possibly anticipate, and yet, the demand will surpass the provision by a rather high factor of multiplication nonetheless. To provide a remedy to that is the aim of the second part of the proposed draft, which pertains to orphans, half-orphans and non-orphans who are wards of the British citizens. Witches and wizards wishing to adopt are to have the possibility to do so with the guardians' consent with charges under the age of five, and with the guardians' and children's consent with charges above the age of five."

Several wands requesting the permission to speak rose at that, most of them from the Light and Neutral factions. The requests were attended to in order of seniority as well, thus he called for the elderly Lady Brocklehurst first.

"As much as we all wish to believe our fellow witches and wizards being honourable and have only the best intentions where the welfare of children is in question, I and several of my colleagues are afraid that this part of the proposed legislation might open the doors to trade with children, Lord Potter."

"Trade with children is already underway, madam. It is an open secret that when the own wife fails to provide an heir many a head of the family pays a young woman in unfortunate circumstances to bear him one."

There was an outburst of indignant protests everywhere.

"Don't you dare denying it!" He half bellowed half hissed at them. "There will be no hypocrisy here today, I shall not allow it! It is high time ladies and gentlemen that we open our eyes and see the morass our society has sunk into!"

The silence that followed was intermitted only by the scratching of the reporters' quills. He supposed it might even look comical for these honourable elders to be lectured by a fifteen-year-old. He turned to face Lady Brocklehurst directly.

"And as to the outcome you fear, madam, I not only expect it, I am actually hoping for it."

And the pandemonium broke loose for real. In the Light and Neutral factions at least, the Dark one gave him merely raised eyebrows. He cast a slight voice amplifying spell to be heard above all the shouting.

"And before you all lynch me on the gallows of the moral high ground, has anyone of you seen the latest birth statistics at St. Mungo's by chance?"

His seemingly non-sequitur question startled them enough to restore order in the room. He cancelled the spell and continued at normal volume.

"No? Then allow me to introduce them to you."

He opened the valise in front of him and took out a stake of parchment bearing the official St. Mungo's seal. The charmed box distributed it among the Wizengamot members and his spells among the reporters.

"What you are holding in your hands, honourable colleagues, are the birth statistics of St. Mungo's hospital of the last hundred years. If I may draw your attention to the year 1895, you will see the number of registered births to be 212. If you look at the right side column, you will notice the number of Hogwarts admittance letters sent out to the non-muggleborn of the same year group that I took the liberty to add for your convenience. 208, which means 98 % of the children born that year were magical."

A quick look around told him that he got their undivided attention.

"Now, if you look at the year 1945, you will see the number of registered births to be 129. The number of admittance letters for that year group is 98, which would mean only 76 % of the children born were magical."

That got him a disturbed murmur.

"One could blame the war with Grindelwald for that, which would be unreasonable, seeing as that war has barely touched Britain, as many of you might even remember. And yet, fact remains that not only did the birth rate go in half, the number of the Squibs born rose from 2 % to 24."

Another disturbed murmur. Some people began to realise where he was going and started losing colour in their faces.

"And now, if you look at the last year's statistic, you will see the number of births to be a horror-inducing 63. This is just about 5 children a month, my Ladies and Lords. The number of admittance letters yet to be sent is currently 42, which would mean that only 67 % of them are magical."

Their faces were just about ashen by now.

"Even though we can rightfully blame the decrease in births on a war this time, it would still not explain the increase in Squib births from 24 % to 33."

He gave them some time to let it sink in, before continuing in a solemn tone.

"Valued members, I will not mince words. Our society is dying and in a handful of generations from now the British witch and wizard might very well be a thing of rarity to behold."

He clapped his hands together once startling the hell out of them, judged by the collective jump they made, and grinned mischievously.

"On the brighter note, what you are holding in your hands are the statistics of just St. Mungo's, my Ladies and Lords, which means they pertain only to those who have the money to spare to have their children delivered either there or at home by their personnel. Sadly enough, that would mean less than 70 % of the total population of Wizarding Britain. And Hogwarts is sending out letters only to those non-muggleborn, whose guardians have signed the confirmation letter for their attendance there after the children have performed their first act of accidental magic, which means the very same less than 70 % as a rule. So, do not despair, we are not dead yet. We still have the poor. The poor, ladies and gentlemen, will be our salvation."

He had their undivided attention again.

"The statistics in your hands clearly say that it is the _decent_ less than 70 % of witches and wizards that are dying out. The poor over 30 % of our population tend to have not only children in abundance, they tend to have _magical_ children in abundance. And because the poor also tend to be _indecent_, they would be more than willing to part with said children for a price. Furthermore, because they tend to be indecent, the money might induce them to produce more. More children for the decent witches and wizards to take, blood adopt and raise their own, to make up for the fact that they are apparently no longer able to birth them themselves."

He turned to address Lady Brocklehurst form the Light faction again.

"That is why I am indeed _hoping_ that this part of the proposed legislation will open the doors to trade with children, madam. Either that or in a hundred years from now the last one of us, decent witches and wizards, blows the candles out."

Shocked silence followed. Whatever questions those who had raised their wands earlier might have had were now completely forgotten. The members of the Dark faction were giving him looks bordering on adoration. He cleared his throat and hid his smirk away.

"The third part of the legislation at hand is mainly directed at elderly couples, widowers and bachelors who wish to adopt, but do no longer have the health or the patience needed when raising small children. They are to have the possibility to adopt adults, meaning 17 years of age with no limit to the upper bound, with the individuals' own consent, put down in writing and indisputably confirmed to have been given willingly."

He smiled up at them pleasantly and gathered his papers ready to clear the lectern for the speakers to follow. "My Ladies and Lords, I am now giving way to discussion."

No one stirred. Harry blinked not knowing what to think of that, but kept his smile firmly on.

Dumbledore cleared his throat sounding slightly uncomfortable. "If there is no want to discuss the proposed legislation further, I hereby request the final vote."

The Dark faction raised their wands as one again; the Neutral gave him over 90 % this time. With that the legislation was passed, but he was still curious about how many in the Light one he had managed to convince. Well over 80 %! Damn, he was good!

The reporters behind him were buzzing like a hive of bees when the Chief Warlock finally proclaimed the blood adoption legislation to be readmitted into the British Family Law.

As if summoned, the bell heralding the lunch break sounded through the chamber. Harry packed his valise and hightailed out of the door before the reporters could get their claws into him. Answering tedious questions aside, selling a highly controversial legislation to highly sceptical elders in less than four hours, did tend to make one hungry.

xxxoooxxx

"Potter, I must say your powers of conviction are almost supernatural," Snape folded the Evening Special Edition of the Daily Prophet and put it aside.

Harry slithered himself onto his lap, made the biggest puppy dog eyes ever and pouted his lips. "Will you let me top tonight?"

Snape blinked.

"Pleeease! I promise I'll make it worth your time," he ran his tongue enticingly along his bottom lip and suggestively swirled it around his forefinger, before suckling on it, with the dark eyes following the happenings the entire time.

"Fine, this one time. But you would be well advised to deliver on your word or you will be sorry indeed."

xxxoooxxx

Hermione screamed her way through her third wonderful orgasm of the evening, before falling back against the cushions, breathing heavily, with Lucius' cock pounding into her relentlessly. They have managed to reach the bed for once and she had to admit, as comfortable as the chairs, couches and rugs in the manor were a bed was a bed. Lucius grabbed her hips hard enough to leave bruises, increasing his pace until it was almost brutal and she felt the next orgasm build up rapidly. It broke drowning her in powerful waves of ecstasy and he slammed into her one last time, before following her with his customary roar. Honestly, it astounded her time and again that he had not managed to reach her cervix somehow. Not that she was complaining, it was rumoured to be quite painful after all.

He remembered to collapse to the side this time thankfully. He had nearly squashed the life out of her the other night. They lay there still entwined for some time, catching their breath. She had moved into the Master bedroom with him last week, though strangely enough, he had to properly take advantage of them sharing a bed yet. He had been married for nearly twenty years, was he not used to fucking his woman through the mattress every night? His hesitant behaviour made no sense, particularly with his eager acceptance whenever she offered sex in mind, though he had yet to initiate any himself. He was always waiting for a sign from her before beginning some form of seduction.

She smiled at the vast canopy above them. Always so gentlemanly, he must have been simply raised that way and she was overthinking things as usual.

He pulled out of her and cast the cleaning charms, before gathering her in his arms and making himself comfortable for the night.

"Lucius," she murmured sleepily into his chest.

"Hm," came equally sleepily from deep inside it.

"You don't need to be always so overly courteous. I'm your bride, your wife to be. You want me then take me. Just take me, don't wait for an invitation. If I'm absolutely not in the mood, I'll let you know."

There was a long moment of silence. Then, "Be careful what you wish for, witch. I might want you constantly."

"Pish-posh, as if you could get it up twice in a row, old man!"

She squealed when he flipped them over and pinned her to the mattress.

"Oh, little witch," he purred settling himself between her thighs again, "you'd better not have any appointments tomorrow. You will not be able to walk for a while."


End file.
